Inheritance Book V: Shur'tugal
by HeirOfEgypt526
Summary: A continuation of the Inheritance Cycle. The Riders are struggling to rebuild, with only one Rider reaching Eragon for training in the past 30 years. Meanwhile, trouble brews in the North, and threatens to move into Alagaësia. Can the New Riders, only 5 strong, stop this new threat, when the rest of the world is helpless?
1. Chapter 1

Riley stood in line, one of hundreds, and awaited her chance. Dressed in the best clothes that she could muster, albeit not much for an eighteen-year-old beggar, she stood and waited.

The line she stood in ran past the town center and up to the stone stage where announcements were made. Upon the stage sat a large, ovular stone, which sat atop a small velvet cushion. The stone was a stark white, in great contrast to the almost black stone of the stage. Each person in line came up to the stone and held onto it for a few moments, maybe two minutes at the longest, before replacing it on the cushion. A man and woman stood behind the stone, watching over the many people coming by. They were accompanied by a small group of guards.

The stone - which everyone in the crowd knew - was really no stone at all, but the egg of a dragon. This egg would hatch for one person of the dragon's choosing. This person would then be taken away, out of Alagaësia, and would be trained as a Dragon Rider by Eragon Shadeslayer.

Riley was next in line for the stone, next in line for a chance to escape Dras-Leona. She had grown up in this city, and lost her parents when she was only ten years old. It had always been her dream to get out of this city, to see the rest of the world; the rest of Alagaësia at least. She wanted to visit Illrea, and Du Weldenvarden, and the dwarves in the Beor Mountains. She wanted to experience the world, and being a Dragon Rider would allow her to do all that and more.

Not to mention, for the past eight years, Riley had lived on the streets – or more aptly, on the shores of Leona Lake. She had stolen food for the better part of that time. During the rare occasion she was paid for some menial task, she felt as though she was living in the lap of luxury. If the egg were to hatch for her, she would be able to escape that fate, and live in relative luxury; at the very least, she wouldn't go hungry thrice a week.

Riley stepped up to the stone, the person in front of her disappointed. Now that she could properly see the egg, she examined it much closer. It was not a pure white as it had looked from far away. Its surface was laced with white veins; they couldn't have been a shade off from the rest of the egg. From this close, the egg looked much more like polished marble. Taking hold of the egg, it felt cool and frictionless in her hands. She had never held anything so smooth, or even heard of anything similar.

Riley slid the egg down her arms and up against her stomach, cradling it like a mother would her baby. She rocked the egg back and forth, looking down into the mirror-like surface. The man and woman on stage made no protest as Riley went into the second minute of contact with the egg.

Riley put the egg back down onto the cushion at the woman's request, nearly five minutes after picking it up; she had held the egg the longest by far. Riley began to walk away when she heard movement from behind her. The egg was rolling around on top of the cushion, no one even touching it. A sharp tapping sound came from the egg as it pushed forwards and backwards. After nearly 2 minutes of the egg moving back and forth a squealing issued from the egg, and a crack appeared in the side. Then another crack appeared; then another, and another. A piece of shell broke off, quickly followed by a larger piece. It was only another minutes until the small dragon was outside of the egg.

It had a long-snouted, triangular head, with the brows and chin ending in sharp-looking points. Small growths were visible on the creature's brow, like horns. The neck was long and serpentine, leading back to a lean, lithe body. Its tail was a good deal longer than its neck, and made up almost half of the dragon's length. On its feet were sharp claws that, even as small as they were, dug deeply into the stone stage. The wings were long and wide – at least, the wing material itself was translucent more like paper held up to a candle than anything else. A long line of spines ran down the length of the dragon's back. The skin of the dragon looked like tanned leather, and there was a distinct lack of scales. Its color was similar to that of its egg, only without the luster.

The dragon shook itself vigorously, freeing any leftover liquids and pieces of shell that were still clinging to its skin. Only then did it seem to notice the crowd of people around it, scrunching up its neck and curling its tail around its legs. It folded its wings close in to its body as it turned and scanned the crowd. When it came to face Riley, after nearly a half rotation, it stopped dead. The dragon stared squarely and unmistakably at Riley. It relaxed itself then, and let its tail uncurl and neck extend.

The dragon hopped down from the stage, clumsily flapping its wings to reach the ground. It sniffed at the boots and shoes of everyone it passed by, stopping at Riley. It looked up at her, its eyes pure white except for the pupils in the center. Riley dropped into a low squat to be on almost eye level with the dragon. The dragon extended its neck out towards her as she moved a hand towards it.

The tip of the dragon's snout touched the palm of Riley's hand. Just as they made contact, Riley felt like all of the blood in her veins was frozen in that instant, and then thawed by incredible temperatures. She fell back onto the pavement, gritting her teeth as the pain passed. Just as the last of the pain drifted away, darkness closed in on the edge of her vision, and she blacked out.

When Riley came to, she was lying on a bed in a high-roofed room, staring at the ceiling. There was quite the weight on her stomach; looking down, she saw the dragon lying on her belly and its head resting on her chest. Its white eyes were staring straight into her green ones. Riley yawned and stretched herself out, reaching over her head. As she brought her arms back down, she noticed something on her right hand.

On her palm, right where the dragon had made contact was a large scar. The raised ridge of skin had a silvery sheen to it, and the dragon purred like a cat as she ran her fingers down its length.

Riley took a closer look at the dragon now that it was right in front of her. It yawned as she did so, revealing rows of short, yet sharp, white teeth. The claws of the creature were likely the most dangerous part; they were inches long, and were serrated slightly on the underside. Riley was slightly concerned about two things, the dragon's lack of scales, and the dragon's gender. A thorough search revealed no distinguishing marks as to the latter, and no scales were revealed through the search either. Riley resolved to ask someone about it later.

Riley sat up in the bed and swung her legs over the side. The dragon took this as cue to jump down to the ground and began to explore the room. A large set of bookshelves took up one wall, and a window stretched across almost the whole of another one. The window overlooked most of Dras-Leona, a view only found in the manor of Duke Darik. The third wall held the door to the hallway, as well as being the resting place for the head of her bed. A small table and a set of cushioned chairs sat off-center in the room, nearby the bookshelves. A leather shirt, trousers, and boots sat atop the table, freshly cleaned, to replace the tattered clothes she had been wearing.

Glad to see that her movers had been kind enough not to undress her, she changed clothes. The new set was a good fit, and was certainly better than her clothes before. She pulled her shoulder-length red hair into a small bun before opening the door to the next room.

The next room over was a common room. High-backed chairs formed a half-circle around a fireplace, a table in the middle of them. Many more bookshelves stood against the walls, but for the most part, the walls were places to hang the many portraits and paintings of dragons. A man sat in one of the chairs, head buried inside a particularly thick book. As the door opened, the dragon wandered out of the room, sniffing and bumping into everything it moved towards. Riley couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

The man looked up from his book, closed it and stood up, "I'm glad you've finally decided to join us. I'm Keiran."

Riley faintly knocked on the door, mostly as a gesture. "I'm Riley. Glad to meet you," she gave a warm smile.

Keiran looked to be in his early thirties. He was tall, likely over six feet, and had a welcoming face. His sandy-blonde hair dropped to his shoulders, and there was a neatly trimmed beard resting on his jaw. Riley quickly recognized him as the man who had been on the stone stage with the egg.

When Riley questioned him on this he responded, "Yes, I've been carrying that egg all over Alagaësia for…almost three years now."

"So you're a Rider then? Do you have a dragon of your own?"

"No, I'm no Rider. I just find the new ones. I suppose I'm something of a recruiter. A real Rider will be taking over your training in about two months. Until then, I'm to make sure you can read, write, and conduct yourself properly."

"Oh. So you'll be tutoring me then?" Riley looked profoundly disappointed.

"Don't be so sad about it. The weeks will fly by; we'll be off for Illrea faster than you think."

Riley perked up at the mention of her capitol city, "Illrea? Will my training not be done here?"

"No, we'll set off for the capitol in six weeks. Then I get to resume my tour of the land with a new egg."

The dragon began poking its head into the fireplace as Riley continued, "How many Riders have you recruited, exactly?"

"Including you, two. The other was an elf by the name of Háufnir, nearly seventeen years ago, now."

"What color was his dragon?" the other Rider piqued Riley's interest almost as much as her own dragon did.

"Orange, if I recall correctly. Her scales were beautiful during the twilight," Keiran looked almost as if he were about to slip into a daydream, if not for the young girl's next question.

"Speaking of scales, why is it that my dragon has none? It only has this leathery skin," Riley asked, eager that the opportunity to do so had presented itself.

"They should grow in during the coming weeks. It'll be fully scaled before the month is out, I promise. Those horns on its head should grow out soon as well. Is there anything else you were wondering?"

"Yes, actually; what gender is the dragon? I haven't found anything uh…indicating that."

"Well from what I've been told by Eragon, females don't often grow horns, so this one is likely a male. We won't know for sure though, until it learns how to speak."

"Dragons can speak? I thought they were just animals."

"No they're intelligent as you or I, perhaps even more."

"Well. When will we be starting then? I'm excited to begin learning."

"We can begin tomorrow morning. Keep the rest of the day for yourself, acquaint yourself with the situation. We've plenty of time for academics in the coming weeks," with that Keiran reopened his book, walked back to his chair, and began reading once more.

The day had already been growing late as Riley had awoken in the manor and even after her fairly brief conversation, the sky was quickly darkening. She was tired, and not particularly interested in doing anything other than going to sleep, dragon in her arms. Closing her door behind her and wrapping herself inside her thin, early summer blankets, she did just that.

Riley was awakened in the middle of the night, though by what, she did not know. The dragon's head rested just below her collarbone. She felt off somehow, like she could almost sense everything in the room.

A thought passed through Riley's mind. It felt different from anything else in her mind, like it was something foreign. She couldn't place what was wrong with it; it felt familiar somehow, like it was something she had forgotten from long ago. She tried to keep a grasp on it, but it was slipping away. Her mind dove for it, desperate to discover what it was before it left her head.

She slipped from her head. Her mind, her consciousness floated in nothingness, suspended by a tendril of though from her mind. Small lights glowed all around her, and a larger light sat right where the dragon's head was. Riley quickly pulled herself back into her head.

Her forehead quickly grew damp from the cold sweat that broke out as she sat up in bed. She had been out of her own body, free floating in the ether. '_Could I have become a spirit?_' She thought to herself.

The dragon stared at her blankly. She silently wished it could speak back to her. It opened it mouth, baring its small rows of teeth; it looked like something of a yawn. Resolving that her experience couldn't have been anything more than quite the vivid nightmare, she returned to her turned over position and drifted back into her dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a warm night at the end of the summer as Riley walked out of the manor she had lived in for the past six weeks. Her dragon came around the corner as she exited the building; ever since he had grown larger than Lord Darik's shepherd dog, he had lived outside in a small shelter Riley and Keiran had built. Despite his ability to speak, grasped through Riley's own speaking to him and a number of lessons she had been giving, he still had not chosen a name; though he had finally revealed his sex hardly two weeks ago.

The dragon was shy, much more so than Riley expected for a creature of his size; Riley and Keiran were the only people he would even approach, much less speak to. After a fortnight, he had grown so that his shoulders were on level with Riley's waistline. By the end of the first month, he was at her chest, and now his shoulders stood at the same height as Riley's. His wings now were nearly the length of his entire body, which with his thin, whip-like tail, stretched out to nearly seven meters. His horns had grown as well, extending away from his face more than two hand lengths. He was surely a terrifying beast to any who didn't know him.

"_Where are you going, Little One. You should be resting for tomorrow's travels," _the dragon spoke through his mental link with Riley.

"_I need to see Leona Lake, just one last time. I'll be back in time to get rest."_

"_Then I shall accompany you. It is dangerous in the city at night."_

_I know that better than most. I'll be fine, you can stay here. Think on your name some more."_

The dragon turned his head and looked at Riley's face with one large white eye. _"You act as if I am not doing so now. Besides, I have never seen your childhood home, except in your mind. I will accompany you, whether you like it or not."_

Riley let out a sigh before acquiescing to his request. She started off away from the manor, the dragon not far behind. The streets of Dras-Leona were long and winding. They often doubled back on themselves, or even ended at doorsteps and began again out the back door. Most people in Dras-Leona had a hard time finding an obscure spot in the city. Foreigners were at a complete loss. But Riley knew the streets well.

She took a number of back allies to get to the city entrance; mainly because they were faster than the main road. The dragon trailed behind her, occasionally growling at a cat or dog that watched them from peoples' property. It wasn't the calmest night, a light drizzle fell from the clouds above, but Riley did not mind. The rain was calming.

About halfway through their walk to the city gates, the rain began to grow heavier. Lightning flashed in the sky, and the streets became dark. It was during a lightning strike, one of the brief moments of illumination during the storm that Riley saw that they were being followed.

A young boy, no more than ten was trailing behind them. He wore tattered clothes, no different than Riley had worn only months ago. His shirt was bright red, and his shorts a deep blue. Another flash of lightning revealed a head of shaggy hair matted to his forehead. The boy wore no shoes, and a dagger hung from his belt. Riley turned around; intent on talking to the child. The next flash was nearly ten seconds later, and the child was nowhere to be found. The only creature nearby, in fact, was a large, golden-brown cat perched atop a fence.

The heaviest of the rain did not last long after Riley had left the city. The light drizzle resumed and the lightning ceased. Some of the moonlight managed to drift through the clouds, making the night much darker than normal, but not opaque.

It wasn't a long walk to the shores of Leona Lake, only a half-mile walk. The light rain pattered against the water, creating beautiful patterns of waves across the water. Riley sat at the top of the shore, where sand faded into coarse soil and grass. She absentmindedly drew patterns in the wet sand with her feet, staring out at the vast lake before her. Riley's mind was left open, feeling the world around her.

The dragon lazed behind her, eyes darting to whatever it decided was worth looking at. The fish in the lake stayed close to the bottom, frightened by the rain. A few bugs crawled nearby, but not overly many; most creatures with any sense would be underground. Two squirrels sat in the hollow of a nearby tree.

It was a long time that Riley sat and stared out over the lake. The body of water had provided for her like a parent; it gave her water to drink and food from its depths. Most of her life she had camped on its shores. Leaving Dras-Leona was more analogous to leaving a lifelong friend than leaving home.

Riley only stood three hours later, when her legs fell asleep and began to cramp. She stood, balancing herself on her numbed legs, nearly three hours after sitting down. The dragon was asleep behind her, loudly growling in his sleep; his version of snoring.

She prodded him with boot and mind, "_It's time to go. We're going to be leaving soon."_

The dragon let out a low rumble as he woke and puffed a jet of black smoke out of his nose, "_Good. It will be good to see more of the world, will it not?"_

"_I suppose it will," _Riley responded with a hint of melancholy in her voice.

The walk back to the manor was mostly uneventful and taken at a slower pace than the departure earlier that morning. It was early morning, just before dawn. Riley arrived at the manor to find Keiran and a few other men loading a cart for travel.

"Riley?" Keiran jumped down from the cart and walked over, "I thought you'd still be in your room this early. Where were you two?"

"I took a last visit out to where I lived on Leona Lake. I know we'll be passing by it on our way but I couldn't leave without spending a little more time there."

"That's fine. We can set off all the faster this way. Come on, get in the back of the wagon, we'll be off before dawn."

The back of the wagon was cramped when Riley and the dragon climbed in. different sized boxes and bags held various foodstuffs and water skins. Keiran had certainly packed enough so that no one would go wanting as they traversed the plains.

Keiran had said the journey would take two weeks, but to Riley it felt much faster. The days passed quickly as the landscape rolled past. They had passed by the tail end of Leona Lake days ago, and were about to pass by where the Torq River turned to spill into the ocean.

Riley sat alongside Keiran at the front of the wagon, watching the dragon swim alongside them in the Torq. Only his head was visible above the water, sticking out of the river, seemingly moving on its own. Riley looked away from him and back to the book in her hands. Ever since Keiran had taught her how to read, she had taken it up as a hobby. On this trip, there was precious little else to do, so Riley spent much of her time reading.

They made camp along the banks of the River that night; the last night they would do so. From here they would turn east and begin the final leg of the journey to Illrea. Riley sat in front of the small fire, watching it as it crackled and flickered. The dragon was drifting off to sleep behind her and Keiran had already retired to his tent.

Riley leaned back against the dragon's flank, ready to drift off to sleep when the dragon let out a short, sharp call. Riley jumped up; frightened by the loud noise the dragon had produced.

"_What was that!? You almost scared me out of my skin!" _Riley yelled out with her mind.

"_Thröviel!"_ the dragon yelled back, leaving Riley confused.

"What's going on?" Keiran stepped out of his tent carefully, longsword drawn.

The dragon said the word again, this time so that both Riley and Keiran could hear.

"…Thröviel? What is that?" Riley asked, looking to Keiran for an answer.

"_It is my name! I have found a name!" _the dragon said.

"Thröviel; it is a good name. Now, I need my rest." Keiran stepped back into his tent with a large harrumph.

"_I think it's a fantastic name. It is certainly one befitting a dragon."_

Riley leaned against Throviel's flank once more as he repeated the name to himself again and again in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Riley watched the hills roll by from the back of the wagon. It was the last day of the journey. Keiran had said that Illrea would be visible by noon, in about an hour. She had been restless ever since, unable to calm her wandering mind.

She wondered about her training. Keiran knew nothing about it, only that it would be overtaken by another Rider. It's not as if there were many candidates. Riley moved to the front of the wagon to interrogate Keiran once more when her question was answered for her.

Illrea had come into sight, and Riley marveled at it. The most prominent feature was the large rock that hung over the city, casting a perpetual shadow. The rock must have been suspended there by magic. The city center was underneath the rock, marked by eight jade-green towers that towered above everything around them. The rest of the city sprawled out from under the rock onto the surrounding countryside. Manors and plantations dotted the hills farther out, and farms ringed the outside of the city.

But none of those things were what drew Riley's eye. Atop the rock formation that hung above the city sat a dragon. This creature was truly of giant proportions, its torso alone the size of a large house. The behemoth's scales were blood red, and the light glinted off of them like rubies. The dragon basked in the sun, black smoke drifting out of its nostrils each time it breathed out.

"That's Thorn, isn't it?" Riley pointed to the dragon.

"A good eye," Keiran replied, somewhat sarcastically, "Yes it is, and I think that confirms who your mentor will be."

"I never considered Murtagh. I though no one had seen him since the end of the Rider War."

"He returned for more training with the elves and Eragon. Not to mention he was originally trained by Galbatorix. He's certainly one of the best fighters I've ever met."

"So he'll be training me. Will he be teaching me to fight as well?"

"I'm sure he will," Keiran said with a chuckle.

The ride closer to Illrea seemed to take the length of the entire trip, so excited was Riley to begin her apprenticeship. It wasn't until they were within two leagues of the city that Thorn moved on the rock. His head, larger than the wagon that they rode in, lifted from the ground and looked around. Thröviel let out a roar from up above, explaining to Riley that he was greeting the other dragon.

Thorn responded with a roar. The sound that came from his mouth was loud, easily heard from this distance. A jet of ruby flame accompanied the roar, spreading out over the city's skyline. The dragon lowered his head back to the rock, this time staring down at the road. He must have known they were on their way.

A voice boomed out in Riley's head. It was deep and rumbling, but had a strange, almost song-like quality to it, "_And who are you, young one, to be traveling with a dragon?"_

_ "My name is Riley. I was chosen as a Rider by the dragon Thröviel, who greeted you earlier."_

_ "Yes, I spoke to the hatchling before I began searching for you. It is an honor to train the newest Rider and her dragon. Murtagh will be waiting for you in front of the citadel."_

Thorn's presence retreated from Riley's mind, leaving her to converse with Keiran and Thröviel in peace. Riley relayed her conversation with Thorn to both of her travelling partners.

"Then set off to the citadel we shall. Murtagh should have another egg for me as well." Keiran sounded more excited than anything else.

"Will you not continue to tutor me in Illrea? Will it come down to Murtagh to teach me everything?"

"No, you will have other tutors. I need to set out and begin searching for the next Rider. When there are so few Riders, we can't afford to wait around."

"Oh. Well I hope you find someone soon. I'd be happy to have a partner to train with." There was melancholy in Riley's voice; she had grown to like Keiran.

"I'll be here for a few days with the new egg, so I won't be leaving just yet; though I doubt you'll see much of me with your training retinue."

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, aside from Riley's remarks about the city. They reached the gates of the citadel fairly quickly. Outside the gates, a man leaned against the wall. He wasn't exceptionally tall, maybe a meter and two thirds. He wore clothes similar to Riley's; well-fit leather trousers and shirt, colored gray. He had jet-black hair that went down past his shoulders; this framed a hard face, an evident broken nose which had never healed right, and steel-gray eyes.

Quite the opposite of his appearance, Murtagh spoke with a loud and friendly voice, "Keiran, Riley! It is good to finally meet you. I trust the journey went well?"

"Indeed, nothing troubled us on the road. I take it Thorn has already told you of us?"

"Yes I was aware of you as soon as Thröviel introduced himself to Thorn. Well met, young dragon." Murtagh slightly bowed his head to Thröviel.

"_Well met, Rider," _the dragon spoke directly to Murtagh, foregoing relaying through Riley.

Murtagh extended a hand towards Riley, "Keiran has told me as much about you as he has learned. I am glad to finally meet you, Riley."

Riley shook the hand enthusiastically, "It is an honor to meet you, Murtagh. I have heard much about you, as well."

"Well I'd be glad to separate fact from myth later, but for now, I think we will show you to your room," Murtagh gestured for them to follow him inside. The gates opened as he approached and closed behind them.

The front hall of the palace was overly lavish, Riley thought. Its ceilings were taller that Thorn was long, and the hall was wide enough for something twice Thorn's size to walk comfortably. It was obviously lit magically, as no discernable light source was present in the room. The hallway must have been a league long; the doors at the end of the corridor seemed to not even be able to fit a mouse. Various paintings decorated the walls where intricately carved doors were not present.

"Why is this so long? It can't be practical in any way," Riley questioned Murtagh.

"Galbatorix rebuilt the old palace that was once under this hill. He wanted to fit his dragon, Shruikan; he had been enlarged by magic, and could not stay by his master's side if the place had not been expanded," Murtagh paused a moment and then added, "And Galbatorix…well he had something of a taste for the dramatic."

"How large was Shruikan? Keiran has said that he was as large as a hill."

"He wasn't mistaken. Shruikan was five or six times the size of Thorn, who has received his fair share of magical augmentation; both to my and his regret."

They continued further into the tunnel, making light conversation. Keiran diverged from the group when Murtagh entered one of the doors on the left side of the hallway. He waved goodbye and set off further down the main corridor. The rest of the palace was a maze of interconnected tunnels and passages, but Murtagh moved down them as if he had lived in the palace all his life.

Riley's room, when they arrived at it, was much like her room from Dras-Leona, only missing the windowed view. The bookshelves here were empty, and a large portrait of a man in his late 40s standing in front of a white dragon adorned most of one wall. A full-body mirror stood in the corner of the room. The final wall was mostly an opening into a larger area, one that Thröviel could fit into with ease. This area was open to the sky, allowing the dragon to fly out and in.

Riley was more interested in the painting than anything else. It seemed almost like it was real; like there was a tiny man sitting in her room. Every detail was so intricate she could hardly believe had someone had actually had the skill to paint it.

"That portrait is one of the last remaining images of Vrael, leader of the Riders before their downfall. His dragon was Umaroth, and was one of the largest among the dragons of the Riders," Murtagh said, noticing Riley's interest in the painting.

"Galbatorix killed him, then?"

"Aye; he was one of the last to hold out, but the others were not strong enough to fight back."  
"Which other Riders survived? Are they still alive?"  
"No. Oromis and Glaedr, the last Rider and Dragon pair, were killed as the elves entered the war; at Gil'ead. Brom, Eragon's father, was a Rider, and he was killed before the war started by creatures known as the Ra'zac."

"Oh. So no one from the old order survived?"

"Well not exactly," Murtagh hesitated to say any more, "I'll tell you about that when you're ready to hear it. It's a complicated concept, and you need to understand dragons very well before you can fully grasp it."

"I understand. So when will we begin training? I'm ready to begin learning all I can," Riley said, enthused.

"Keiran did say you were an inquisitive one. We'll begin tomorrow morning. Focus on learning your way around this place; you'll need to know how. I need to go and contact Eragon to introduce you. I'll return in about an hour, until then, explore the room and relax; whatever you like. Just be ready in an hour."


	4. Chapter 4

Eragon's arms rested on the sill of the window in his tower. High above the ground, he looked down over the city that he had created. Empty as it was, it was still beautiful. In fact, perhaps its emptiness added to the beauty. The only inhabitants aside from Eragon and Saphira were seven elves that had accompanied Eragon on his journey here.

The mountains themselves were beautiful as well, and he and Saphira had enjoyed being here as long as they had, and likely would for quite a long time more. The elves made good company when he needed it. But he missed speaking to humans; his own kind. His most consistent – and useful, for that matter – contact, Joed Longshanks, had died nearly seven years ago. It was a rare chance he had to speak with Nasuada or Roran, their duties kept them busy.

_"Those around me are fading, yet I stay strong, stay youthful. It is an ironically sad existence, to live forever," _Eragon thought to himself.

He had named this place _Du Fells Flauga_, The Flying Mountains; on account of the many dragons he had believed would soon be flooding the area. But none had come. The wild dragons' eggs hatched, of course, and had since moved on. Only one new Rider had made it here in the past 30 years. He knew that the hatching of the dragons was not something that he could control, but nonetheless he felt as though he himself had failed.

The Rider pushed himself up from his leaning position and turned to walk to his scrying bowl. The water was cool and still, reflecting Eragon's face like a mirror.

Eragon leaned over the bowl and whispered softly, "Draumr kópa."

The water shifted and shimmered. It went pitch black and then lit up, an image inside of it. The image was of Roran, sat in a high-backed chair. His mouth moved quickly under the bushy beard that he had grown since they had last seen each other. Roran's eyes were as sharp and fierce as ever, even as he edged closer to old age. The room around him and the people he spoke to were not visible to Eragon, he had never seen them before. Roran's son, Calleach, stood behind him. Satisfied that his cousin was safe, Eragon moved on to scry the Dwarf King Orik, Nasuada, Háufnir, and finally Murtagh. He observed each in turn until he was satisfied with their security.

_"You forget I can hear your thoughts, Eragon. Why must you insist on feeling sad for yourself," _Eragon could sense Saphira winging her way towards the tower as she returned from hunting.

_"We've discussed this before. There is no need to continue doing so."_

_ "That's quite the unhealthy attitude, but I will oblige you. Have it your way, go on moping," _There was a heavy sarcasm in her voice, _"Has Murtagh given any news of the eggs?"_

_ "No, nothing; I'm considering exchanging the white for another egg, Perhaps the purple?"_

_ "Hmm, maybe, I'd much rather hatch the eggs from the Vault before we decide to try mine. They've been in there far too long."_

_ "There is every possibility that it has been too long. One-hundred and thirty years is a long time to do nothing but wait in an egg."_

It was a small lie that Eragon had told her. News of the egg had come; it was simply that nothing had happened. The egg was on its third trip round Alagaësia, it should have passed through Dras-Leona about five weeks ago.

When he had first left Alagaësia, he had been more hopeful. The first egg had hatched in only three years. It was slower than he would have liked, but it had hatched. And it was to a Dwarf no less. But the petty infighting among the clans had resulted in both the Rider and the dragon, only a month old, being killed. After that, it had been another ten years before an egg hatched.

Háufnir, an elf, and his orange dragon, Jánia, had been a fantastic pleasure to train, though they had left years ago. They were mapping the north past Du Weldenvarden, and Háufnir contacted Eragon only occasionally.

_"I think I will retire to my routine early tonight, Saphira. I need the rest."_

_ "Very well, Little One."_

After a sparse meal, Eragon began his way to the peak of his tower. Saphira landed on the ample platform built around the uppermost floor of the tower; it was her favorite place to lounge while Eragon meditated. And that is exactly what Eragon did. He sat on the floor in the center of his room and opened his mind to everything around him. This was a nightly ritual of his, to ensure that nothing malevolent had entered his sanctuary. Everything in the city, each fly, ant, elf, dragon, each tiny speck of life was something that he knew of and could intimately feel. As he touched everything, the sun waned quickly. He retracted his mind to himself after almost four hours, leaving his connection with Saphira as the only link from his mind. The dragon was fast asleep, and Eragon planned on mimicking her, but was interrupted by the mirror in the corner of the room.

The surface shimmered and went all white before a room appeared. Murtagh stood in the center of the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hello Brother. It's good to speak with you again," Eragon bowed slightly as he entered Murtagh's field of view.

"And I am glad to see you well," Murtagh bowed deeper than Eragon, contorting his arm in an odd way over his sternum, "I would have contacted you sooner than now, but nonetheless I think you will be excited with my news. The white egg has hatched."

Eragon hid his emotions well, keeping a calm face while jumping for joy on the inside, "That is fantastic news. Who was the lucky recipient?"

"It was a young girl called Riley. She arrived in Illrea not three hours ago," Murtagh gestured to someone outside the mirror's frame and moved to the side.

The girl that stepped in front of the mirror was not exactly what Eragon had expected of a Rider. She was rather plain in terms of looks, with shoulder length that hair that was a deep auburn red. She was thin, looking like she was used to not eating much. She was short as well, reaching barely five and a half feet.

The girl bowed deeply, "It is an honor to meet you, Eragon."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, young lady. So you'll be our next Rider, will you?"

"Aye, I will," She went blank-faced for a moment, obviously talking to her dragon, "Thröviel will be over in just a moment, he's been exploring the castle."

Eragon could not help but let out a small chuckle for the curiosity of a dragon. It was the same curiosity that Saphira had exhibited during her first months. The white dragon poked his head and neck into frame of the mirror, easily able to fit through the exceptionally large corridors of Nasuada's palace. Eragon eagerly awoke Saphira and informed her of the situation. It was only moments before one of her sapphire eyes obscured nearly the entire view of the mirror, the rest taken up by her scales.

"_I hardly remember being that small. It had to have been when we first left Palancar Valley, yes?"_

_"I believe so."_

"She says hello," Eragon spoke louder to make sure the recipients could hear him, "She's quite excited to meet you."

Riley called back, "Thröviel is also quite excited. Can they not speak to each other?"

"Not when they are so far apart. Eragon is quite the distance away," Murtagh interjected.

_"Saphira, can you back away from the mirror. I need to see as well."_

_ "Humph. If I need to leave so soon, don't bother waking me." _

_ "You would have been angry either way. At least this way you've met them. I can still relay what you say, I just –"_

_ "No, I need to sleep. Go on with your training."_

"He is very pleased to meet you," Riley said now that the entirety of her dragon was in view of the mirror.

"I can tell. Now if you two will excuse us. I need to speak to Murtagh in private."

Riley looked somewhat disappointed, but obliged. Murtagh stepped back into frame of the mirror, locking the door they went through. He began muttering in the ancient language, casting spells that would ensure they were not eavesdropped on. Eragon did not, confident in his search from earlier. Saphira had already fallen back asleep.

When Murtagh finished his spells, he looked straight into Eragon's eyes. "I want to train her. I'm ready to do this. "

"I'm not so sure Murtagh. You should have the elves assist you, Arya would be more than happy to do it; I'm sure."

"Eragon, you need to trust me eventually. At least let me teach her to fight and ride; we'll leave magic and meditation to you. How else do you expect me to prove myself? How else do you expect me to train recruits in the future?"

"Very well; you have my blessing to train her. I'll need weekly reports on her progress delivered by her. You've been gone for a long time Murtagh; I'm not sure you're ready for this. I sincerely hope you can prove me wrong."

"Thank you, Brother."

Eragon let out a deep sigh before continuing, "I'll send a message to Arya and contact Háufnir. You contact Orik and Grahzvog. I'll speak to you next during your first progress update," Eragon waved his hand over the mirror, ending the spell. Murtagh vanished from the mirror, leaving only Eragon's own image in place.

Eragon took a moment to examine his reflection in the mirror. His face was marked by a long scar, the result of an unfortunate accident while sparring with Blödgarm. Other than that, he mostly maintained his youthful looks, though his eyes were not that of the twenty-something he looked to be. His light brown hair stayed close cut, he used magic to trim it, as well as to prevent himself growing a beard.

Eragon pulled himself out of the slight trance of vanity that his connection with Saphira sometimes caused, he moved to his bed, slipping into the trance that had long since replaced his sleep. The next morning, Eragon informed the elves of Riley and Thröviel, and sent Blödgarm to Du Weldenverden to inform Arya and the elves. Returning to his mirror, he cast a quick spell to contact Háufnir. The face of an elf appeared, enlarged, appeared in the mirror.

Háufnir jumped as he realized it was Eragon and quickly straightened himself up, "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Eragon responded, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr," And abandoning the optional third line, Eragon continued speaking, "I called to inform you of some news that had come up. We have a new Rider."

"We do!? Who is it? And Urgal or Dwarf I should hope."

"No, it is a young girl from Dras-Leona. Her name is Riley; the white egg hatched for her. The dragon calls himself Thröviel."

"Ah. I am glad you decided to inform us. When will she be in Du Fells Flauga? I'm excited to meet her."

"She'll be schooled and taught swordplay by Murtagh. Then she'll be brought here," Eragon did little to hide his dissatisfaction with the plan.

"Murtagh?" Háufnir was taken aback, "Is he ready for this? I'd be more qualified to train her than he is."

"Murtagh is only teaching her to ride and fight, two things at which he is nearly unrivalled. I feel confident in his teaching in those areas. It is everything else that I'm worried about. He will be only assisting me in her instruction of magic."

"Well I am grateful you deemed to tell us. I would talk further, but Jánia and I are both tired, and need to rest. Thank you, Ebrithil."

Háufnir waved his hand in front of his mirror and the spell ended.


	5. Chapter 5

Murtagh led Riley across a large field, sheltered in the shadow of the overhanging rock, "So how much experience do you have fighting?"

"Not much; the most I've gotten into is a couple fistfights," Riley grew slightly embarrassed before continuing, "And those I lost."

"Okay then; this will be a fresh start. The first thing we'll need to do is pick a weapon for you. And you shouldn't pick it based on how big or flashy it is. Whether you choose sword axe or spear, the weapon should feel natural; almost as if it's an extension of your arm, not just a tool."

_"I suppose we'll be visiting an armory then?"_

Riley relayed Throviel's words and agreed with his guesswork.

"You're quite the smart pair."

Riley took the time to inspect the surrounding fields more closely. A few sets of buildings were placed just outside a perimeter fence that surrounded the area. Various sections of field were marked off; in each field was a different training. People learned to ride horses, archery; recruits sparred with and without weapons. It was obviously a training ground for the militia and Empire's soldiers.

Murtagh led them into one of the buildings off to the side, Thröviel only able to stick his head and neck into the smaller door frame. The walls inside the room were covered in weapon racks. They held swords, axes, staves, spears, any kind of weapon someone might fight with. Riley looked around, overwhelmed with choice.

Murtagh, perhaps sensing his pupil's predicament, pulled a replica sword, about thirty inches in length from the wall. Riley took it, surprised by the weight. "Shouldn't I have a real weapon?"

"You'll get one, don't worry," Murtagh replied, a short grin crossing his face, "But we can't use sharpened swords to spar. We'd cut each other to ribbons."

"I suppose you're right. I'll be sparring with you then?"

"Yes, whenever my duties allow it."

Murtagh grabbed another wooden sword from the wall, a crude image of his own sword which hung from his belt. They moved out to a small field set apart from the rest. No others stood here, and Murtagh took up position a few yards away, facing her. ]

"Now we'll keep things simple for now. Just try and make contact with my sword; swat aside my blows." Murtagh held his sword horizontally over his hips.

Riley held her sword crossed over her chest, ready to move. Murtagh's first blow was nearly too fast to see, resulting in a throbbing pain in Riley's arm. By sheer luck, she moved her sword to block the next hit from slamming into her side.

The sparring continued for the next few hours. By the end of the process Riley had amassed a number of welts and bruises, mostly along her sides and arms.

"_He has quite the brutal method of training."_ Thröviel commented from the side of the field.

_"I'm sure Thorn will be just as merciless. Speaking of, I think you're due for class."_

Riley's day was finished out in class. She was tutored on many topics; her reading and writing were of a large concern to her tutors, as well as mathematics, history and the sciences. By the time her responsibilities were finished, it was nearing the end of the day.

It wasn't long before Riley fell into a routine. In the mornings she would attend her classes and study. Her afternoons were spent sparring with Murtagh; soon enough she was properly fighting him instead of simply defending, though it was still a rare sight to land a blow. Her evenings were spent either reading in her room or exploring the city. Oftentimes she would sit in on Thröviel's lessons with Thorn, interested in the specifics of flying and airborne combat.

While she performed well in her academics, Riley was a notably poor swordsman. Even with Murtagh and the help of an instructor for the Broddring Army, she could hardly land a hit on Murtagh, and lost to almost anyone else she sparred with. Things went on like this for a month, weapon after weapon failing.

But eventually, Riley found a sword she felt comfortable with. Unlike the long, straight swords she had been training with before, this sword was shorter, and had a curved, one-sided blade. The blade was backed by a thicker back edge made of darker, stronger metal. It also had no guard to protect the hands on the hilt.

During Riley's first sparring session with the new weapon, both she and Murtagh discovered that a wooden approximation of this weapon would be worse than useless. So Murtagh blocked the edges of the swords with magic, preventing them from cutting.

"Would you mind not telling Eragon about this during your reports? I promised him that I wouldn't get too far into magic with you. He'll be teaching you about that." Murtagh had said the first time he had performed the practice; she had agreed to his request.

_"We should have been flying together before now. I've been large enough to since a week after we arrived."_ Thröviel grumbled.

_"That's true. I suppose Murtagh thought our other training was more important," _Riley wrapped her arms around Thröviel's neck from behind.

"_You should have spent more time making this saddle."_

_ "I don't understand why you dislike it so much. It can't be that uncomfortable."_

_ "It is constricting, and it restricts my movement when I fly. And it itches."_

Riley could not help but stifle a laugh, _"You have scales; how can it itch?"_

_ "I don't know, but it does. It gives me the same feeling that you get when wearing a corset."_

_ "Oh lord, don't remind me. I'll see if I can loosen the straps a bit to make it more comfortable, but I don't know how it'll hold up when we fly."_

_ "Thank you."_

After loosening the saddle's straps, Riley was sat atop her dragon; seated in a small hollow on his back where his spines were not in the way. Thröviel was basking in the sun on top of the rock outcropping above Illirea. They had been told to wait there for Thorn and Murtagh to teach them to ride.

_"They should have been here by now. It isn't like Thorn to be late to a lesson,"_ noted Thröviel.

_"I'm sure they'll be here within the half-hour. It's probably some important business they're taking care of."_

It was another hour before Murtagh emerged from a tunnel near the back of the outcropping. He took his time walking over, making the dragon even more nervous to take off than he was before.

Riley and Thröviel's connection had only grown stronger over the past month; they could now converse with each other when they were leagues apart. It wasn't uncommon for Riley to be sparring with Murtagh while listening in on Thröviel's lessons with Thorn. They were also sharing emotions on a more regular basis, almost like they were merging into one being.

"I am deeply sorry for my punctuality. I was held up by a number of people inside," Murtagh spread his arms wide in a gesture of apology.

"It wasn't a problem at all. Where is Thorn, were you two not supposed to fly with us today?" Riley responded.

"Well Thorn is out hunting, putting that on a bit of a delay. But flying isn't something that needs to be taught so much as learned. Having an instructor will do nothing but limit you. So for the next two days, I don't want you anywhere except in the air during your sparring hours. Now go," Murtagh turned around as he finished his speech, waving his hand behind him.

Thröviel took this as cue to begin loping for the edge of the outcropping. Riley ensured she was strapped into her saddle properly before the dragon leaped off of the edge of the rock. She screamed as the wind blasted their faces. Thröviel pulled out of the dive at the last second, catapulting back into the sky. The dragon climbed until his momentum burned out and then levelled out. Every few seconds he gave a heavy flap of his wings to keep himself afloat.

The wind at this height was much fiercer than down below. The air was colder, and had a bite to it. Clouds drifted by as they flew against the wind. Riley ran her hand through one, pulling it back and examining the water that had collected on it. She made a point to remember to inform her tutors of this discovery later. It was relaxing to fly, even in this cold. Thröviel twisted and turned, snaking along in whichever direction the wind pushed him; almost as if he were a giant serpent. Leaning back against the spike behind her, Riley enjoyed the ride for the entirety of the time she and Murtagh would have spent sparring. The hard riding would be done tomorrow; it wasn't a sin to relax for a few hours.

When it was finally the time to return, Thröviel decided to make the flight more exciting. He flipped upside down and dropped into a dive, folding his wings in. Riley raised her arms, letting the wind whip her to and fro. Angling towards the rock outcropping, Thröviel flared his wings well before landing, slowing him almost to a stop. He landed softly, allowing Riley to slide down his foreleg and go about finishing her day.

Over the next four months, Riley and Thröviel flew together more and more. Once Riley's classes and tutoring were finished, the pair was flying every day. Riley's swordsmanship improved as well; she much preferred the more fluid, interconnected movements that her sword – called a scimitar – promoted. By the end of the time she had spent in Illirea, she could duel nearly any soldier in the Kingdom's army and win.

It was an early morning when Riley reported to the sparring grounds to find Murtagh not ready to fight.

"Riley, we'll be taking the next week off of your training. You should be preparing for a journey. We'll be going to Carvahall."


	6. Chapter 6

Jánia landed softly on the side of the mountain, setting down near the mouth of a decent-sized cave. Háufnir undid the saddle straps on his legs and slid down the dragon's flank. He patted her on the foreleg, _"I think this will make a fine resting place for tonight. Jánia, would you mind lighting a fire for me?"_

_"Of course I will." _

Once the pit was assembled, Jánia let out a small stream of fire from between her teeth. The orange flames rested on the pile of tinder, lighting it ablaze. Háufnir went about arranging sticks so that the fire would not die soon. The cave lit up with dancing lights from the fire glinting off Jánia's scales.

Háufnir reached into the bags hanging from Jánia's saddle. He removed a large, rolled up piece of parchment, along with a quill pen and a phial of ink. Unrolling the parchment along the smoothest part of the cave's floor revealed a detailed map of Alagaësia. The continent was only in the center of the map however. To the east, the map extended for thousands of leagues to Du Fells Flauga and all the way to the ocean beyond. The west and south had no additions yet. To the north, Háufnir's pen created new mountains and valleys with each stroke. His map extended to the north a fair ways past the traditional border of Alagaësia, but was only a quarter of the way to the edge of the parchment. Not much existed this far north, and Háufnir wasn't sure there was much farther north to go. Eragon had told him that the world was round, and logically that meant he would eventually begin going south; not that he had any actual idea where that demarcation was.

The elf began etching new lines onto the map carefully; those were the places he had been able to accurately place over the past day. Today was fairly weak progress, no more than a half-league square of mountains. Even with an almost perfect memory, mapping the intricacies of the longest mountain range in Alagaësia was difficult; he and Jánia had been flying over the same three to four league section of the Spine for three days now.

_"How much progress have we made? Can we move on to the next section of the Spine?" _asked Jánia, her patience with this mountain range growing thin.

_"Yes, I believe we can," _Háufnir could feel his dragon's empty stomach, _"Go and hunt. You haven't eaten in a few days."_

_ "Fine; but be done with your scribbling by the time I return."_

_ "You won't be back until morning; I'll have finished long before then."_

With that comment, Jánia leaped from the mouth of the cave, leaving Háufnir alone. Time passed quickly, and soon enough the sun was dipping down below the peaks of the mountains. As Háufnir set about scratching the last few lines onto the paper, he heard a loud snap from the mouth of the cave. He stood and spun about in a flourish, drawing the iridescent orange arming sword from the scabbard on his hip.

Two creatures, both standing a full head over Háufnir, stood just inside the entrance of the cave. Both of them were built like Urgals, with powerful muscles and long horns extending from their heads. They were much paler than any Urgal Háufnir had ever seen, excepting a single spot on the body. The spot was different on either Urgal; the center of the chest for one, and halfway up the forearm for the other. The spot was blackened and peeling, like they it had been afflicted with frostbite. One of the creatures let out a screech so high pitched that it could not have been natural and then rushed at Háufnir, pulling a heavy axe from its belt.

The thing hefted the axe into the air and let it fall down as he came up to Háufnir. The elf sidestepped the blow easily, giving a quick chop to the creature's leg. The sword pierced the skin, but no blood came out. Instead the blood oozed slowly, cold and blue, out of the wound. The other creature took Háufnir's confusion as a chance to bring down a club on the elf's leg, crushing in the greave he wore.

Stumbling backwards, Háufnir shouted in his native tongue, "Kverst!"

A long gash appeared along the chest of one creature, dividing it from hip to collarbone. It let out a wail before falling backwards clutching at the center of the wound. Standing quickly, Háufnir planted his sword into the gut of the creature still standing. It shrieked once more, and hurled a fist towards Háufnir. The hand itself felt like it was frozen solid; the creature was emanating cold like anything else did heat. He was knocked off balance from the force, losing the grip on his sword – which was still stuck in the creature's stomach.

Háufnir pulled a wicked eighteen inch knife from a small sheathe on his leg. The creature ripped the sword from his stomach, pulling it out by the blade. The second creature still clutched at the wound across its torso, and yelled in a language Háufnir did not understand. He put his hand up once more, and grasped at the magic that dwelled within him.

"Brisingr!" he barked, before a jet of flame flew from his hand.

The fire collided with the monster's chest and it yowled loudly. But instead of wincing or flinching, the creature seemed to absorb the fire. The first thing Háufnir noticed was the wound on the creatures stomach stitching itself closed. The fire passed over the bloody hole and was sucked into it. The wound on its leg began to close as well. The creature's skin began to lighten as well, returning to the pale pinkish-grey of most Urgals; by the time Háufnir had ended the spell, it looked exactly like a normal Urgal, except for the frostbitten spot on its chest.

The creature roared in a much deeper tone, like the sound of a rock slide. Háufnir ducked to avoid an overhead blow, but the creature was too quick, and changed the angle of attack, slamming the flat of his axe into Háufnir's temple. Everything went black around him.

The first thing Háufnir noticed upon waking was the bitter cold. There was no light in his room. He wore his same bright orange armor; his sword belt and scabbard were on his waist, but his sword itself was nowhere to be found. Putting his hand against the wall, it felt like solid ice.

He didn't think he had been drugged; he was too lucid for that, "Brisingr un böllr," he spoke, testing his magical capability. A small orb of fire formed over the elf's hand. The walls of the room did indeed seem to be made of ice. The door at the front of the room was of steel, with nothing to see out of. A quickly worded spell enhanced his eyesight so he could move around without attracting the attention that a light would bring.

Another set of words unlocked the door before him, it swung open slightly. No one was outside. Seven other doors just like his ringed the room and a staircase heading upwards was the only exit. Someone groaned from one of the other rooms. Háufnir stopped, debating whether or not to free the prisoner. Deciding it was inhumane to leave whoever it was here, he magicked the lock on the door open.

Inside was another of the creatures that had attacked him, chained to the wall. His frost bite, however, covered nearly his entire body. The skin that he could see was the right color for an Urgal, mottled grey and pink. One of the Urgal's horns was broken off.

"Jeirda," Háufnir spoke softly, so as to not attract any undue attention. The loud snap from the Urgal's neck, however, rendered that point rather moot.

Locking the cell door again on his way out, Háufnir began up the stairs. Nothing seemed to be moving through the area, and reaching out with his mind he felt nothing except creatures in other dungeons locked up as he was.

Proceeding down the halls of what appeared to be a castle, Háufnir heard something up ahead. Two more of the creatures shuffled down the hall around the corner ahead of him. They muttered to each other in a language Háufnir did not know; it sounded like Dwarven. Quickly composing a spell in his head he ducked around a corner and disguised himself. When he was done he appeared blue from the cold. He cooled the air around him, and a sword shimmered in appearance on his hip. His frostbite was visible on his hand.

Two dwarves walked past him, exhibiting the same symptoms the Urgals he had seen before. He could see no frostbite on them however; it must have been under their armor. He could not feel their minds when he reached out. Supplementing his fairly weak spellcasting ability with vast quantities of energy he stored in jewels on his armor and scabbard, he kept the image up as he explored through the castle. It was nearly an hour of exploring and hiding in shadows before he found large set of double doors that led outside.

Opposite those doors, at the end of the hallway where Háufnir was standing, were a second set of double doors, these only slightly ajar. A cold unlike anything Háufnir had ever experienced drifted from the room, the small bit of the inside of the door he could see was completely frozen over; the floor outside for nearly two meters was frosted with ice. Unable to resist, Háufnir peered inside.

Seeing nothing but a few corpses, Háufnir began his way to the door. It wasn't a long walk, but as soon as the elf stepped outside, his disguise disappeared. The two human guards posted outside the door turned to him and stared only for a moment before levelling halberds to face him. Ducking underneath a swing from his left, Háufnir bolted forward, away from the castle. He slid to a stop when he saw the thirty foot high wall that blocked his path. The guards yelled for help in the human tongue, and slowly moved forward, halberds ready to stab forward.

The snow was thick in the yard, packed down from the patrolling guards, but more was falling. The sky overhead was a dark swirl of clouds. Háufnir could not feel Jánia as he saw some movement in the hall he had exited. The frozen door began to slowly open, but he had no intention of staying.

"Audr!" Háufnir yelled as he ran towards the outer wall. He gracefully slid up in the air and barked, "Ganga!" once he was over it. The snow outside the wall was looser, and harder to run through, but it gave way to hard, frozen ground quickly enough.

Háufnir's heels pounded against the permafrost; he didn't think to stop until each step sent shocks of pain up his spine.

Jánia landed hard on the side of the mountain, setting down near the mouth of a decent-sized cave. The straps on her saddle were still loose from when Háufnir had slid off the night before. Sticking her head into the cave, she saw the ashes of the fire, and the iridescent orange sword lying on the ground. The map was thrown to the side, tattered in the fight that had obviously happened here. Dried black blood stained the floor.

_"Urgals!"_ Jánia was quick to take back off after realizing Háufnir must have been captured; though she was sure to take the sword and her saddlebags before leaving. She flew high over the mountains and roared, spraying bright orange flame over the sky.

She was alone. Ever since hatching she had been alongside Háufnir. He had always been a presence in her mind, until now. Now she was without him; it was a brand new feeling to her. After nearly two hours of flying over the mountains and searching, she conceded that she would not find Háufnir on her own. But she would not accept that he was gone. Hope slowly eroding in her heart, Jánia began winging her way towards the closest settlement in Alagaësia, Carvahall.


	7. Chapter 7

The slightest noise would give away Roran's position. He gripped his hammer tightly, ready to ambush the Urgals that made camp ahead. The beasts had been attacking supply trains along Palancar Valley. After they had razed a third of Carvahall's outlying farms, Roran knew it was time to put diplomacy aside. He looked out of the brush he was hiding behind, surveying the Urgal's camp in the dark one last time.

He turned to his Captain of Carvahall's guard, Arryn. Her pitch black hair was matted to her forehead in a nervous sweat. Roran signaled her to begin the attack, and prepared himself to run forward. Arryn pressed a horn to her lips and blew hard. Roran's archers riddled the Urgal lookout and 45 soldiers streamed into the camp with Roran hot on their heels.

He dove on top of an Urgal who was too late in crawling out of its tent. The creatures desperately tried to shake off Roran and stop the onslaught, but could not. Roran drove the head of his hammer down onto the Urgal's head. He stood, spinning around to crack the skull of another Urgal with the same hammer. Before Roran could find another opponent, the battle had ended. It hadn't lasted more than a minute.

Catching the attention of Arryn, Roran began barking orders, "Sweep the camp. Take prisoners. Once we've cleared it out, burn the rest."

Arryn gave a still salute and began ordering her men around. Roran liked the woman, despite her unpopular promotion. She was strong, reliable, and had wits and intuition to match his. He watched her as she dragged off an Urgal prisoner.

Roran made his way to a nearby tree stump and lowered himself onto it. For the past three months, a horrid pain in his back had cursed him. He had asked his daughter Ismira to fix it, and she had agreed, but she had been in Surda for a number of months, and would be returning in the next few days. Calleach, his son, wasn't well versed in healing magic, and would be of no use. The pain was nearly unbearable at this point; the little fighting he had done today took nearly everything he had.

"Sir, are you okay?" Arryn walked over from a dispersing clump of soldiers.

"Fine; it's my back again. I can't wait until Ismira returns," Roran tried to rub the pain out of his lower back as he replied.

"Very good sir; we're clearing out the last of the tents now. We took four0 prisoners. We're nearly prepared to leave."

Roran stood from his stump, stretching his arms above his head, "Alright then; we should be on our way, we have guests tomorrow."

_A battalion of men walked forward, through the streets of Uru'baen. At its head was a large man, his cuirass bulging around his stomach. The man's hardened features showed years of command and fighting. Lord Barst was quite the imposing figure. His men halted at an intersection, and readied their weapons. They charged down the field, pushing their way into the Varden's ranks. The screams of men as they lost limbs and died were haunting. Roran brought his hammer up under one man's chin, only to feel the cold steel of a blade on his neck…_

Roran screamed as he was torn out of his dreams. He breathed heavily; almost panting. He had been having these nightmares ever since he left Carvahall; ever since he had to kill someone. Eragon and he had talked about it at length on more than one occasion, but that did nothing to push away the nightmares.

Roran looked over to the empty space on the other side of his bed. Katrina should have been there. She had died three years ago, during one of the harshest winters Roran had ever seen. Winters had only been getting worse since then; colder and colder every year, and fewer people had the food they needed.

Roran looked out the window, realizing it was nearly morning. The early winter sun was just appearing over the mountains surrounding Palancar Valley. Murtagh and his new apprentice would be here soon to help deal with the Urgals. It would be welcome assistance; the militia in Carvahall and Therinsford were not fit for a prolonged fight. Roran hoped this could be resolved without the loss of any more life; he didn't wish for any more bloodshed.

He bathed, dressed, and ate before heading to the gates of the town to meet Murtagh. It took a half hour of waiting to finally see the dragon appear in the sky. A small black dot appeared over the horizon, followed about a minute later by another. The dots in the sky grew exponentially as they approached the town. Soon enough they realized into their proper forms; dragons. Thorn was winging his way towards Carvahall with a much smaller dragon in tow.

A small crowd gathered around the gates as they saw the dragons approach. Roran's guards were among them, arranging themselves around him as if he were in the midst of battle. Arryn approached with her guards as well. Soon enough the crowd was nearly the whole of the town.

The two dragons grew larger and larger as they approached, eventually settling down softly a few down meters out of town. Thorn still caused quite the crash with his size. Thorn was much larger than Roran remembered; at least twice the size he had been before Uru'baen. The second dragon contrasted Thorn's blood-red scales with a set of brilliant white ones. The smaller dragon also had horns growing from its brow, something Roran hadn't even considered on a dragon before. The two Riders slid down the flanks of their dragons and began the walk over, the dragons following suit.

Roran extended his hand as Roran approached, "Welcome to my city, cousin," When Murtagh took his hand, Roran pulled him into a quick embrace.

"I'm glad to see past enmities are behind us," Murtagh said awkwardly.

"Indeed. Who is your new friend here?" Roran gestured to the young woman who had dropped from the white dragon.

The woman bowed her head, "I'm Riley; the newest Rider."

"That much seems apparent. It is a pleasure," Roran dropped the barriers around his mind as he turned towards the dragons, in case they wished to speak directly, "It is an honor, O dragons," he bowed deeply.

He felt the pressure of both of the dragons in his head, _"It is our pleasure, Earl Roran of Carvahall. I am Thorn,"_ Thorn had an oddly musical tone to his voice.

_"And I am Thröviel," _Thröviel's voice was nothing like Thorn's, it was harsh and gritty, _"I have heard you were a powerful hunter in your youth .Stronghammer they called you, yes?"_

_ "Yes. Roran Stronghammer; though my arm isn't quite what it used to be."_

"I'd imagine being called a powerful hunter by a dragon is quite the honor," Roran said as he gestured for the party to follow. He dismissed his and Arryn's guards, as well as the crowd of civilians.

"It is indeed. Now, we should get down to business. Where can we talk privately?" Murtagh gestured to the civilians that were still milling about the gate.

Roran, with the help of Arryn and the nearby guards, managed to dismiss the crowd, and led the Riders to his house, magically protected from eavesdroppers by Calleach. To the dragons he gave directions to the dragonhold he had built near his keep, in case Eragon ever visited. They preferred to lounge behind the house.

They met in the largest room of the house. It held inside it a large table with a diorama of Palancar Valley. It had a number of figurines on it, detailing Urgal and Palancar Militia forces. Roran knocked an Urgal tent over near the road to the other city in Palancar Valley, Therinsford.

We staged a raid last night on a camp between here and Therinsford. The whole camp was wiped out, we took four prisoners. I'm afraid this is becoming more than a small border skirmish. Urgals are massing in camps around Carvahall. The road in is blocked, there are still two more camps left between here and Therinsford. Not to mention the three camps that circle the town that are as large as a whole company of soldiers." Roran motioned to various parts of the map as he spoke, though both Riley and Murtagh knew the geography.

"Why did you now ask for help sooner? This situation can't have cropped up overnight," Murtagh studied the map closely as he spoke.

"Ismira is in Surda and no one can use your damned mirror. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Calleach doesn't know the words."

"I'd be happy to teach him whenever I have the chance. I'd like to end this without any more bloodshed. Perhaps the Herndall will be able to hold these Urgals back. I will speak to Nar Grahzvog tonight, and depart to speak with the Herndall in person tomorrow."

"Wait, you're leaving? How do you expect us to get along without you?" Arryn spoke up from behind Roran.

"I'll stay behind and help with the defense. Thröviel could do a lot to help bulk up the walls around the city; they're rather thin," Riley spoke with a smile, trying to prevent the conversation from escalating.

Roran said, "Very well. Though, I doubt Urgals will be turned away by a young woman with a sword."

"A dragon will be a different story," said Arryn.

"Good. Show me to your mirror so I can contact Grahzvog. Afterwards, I would be interested in learning more about the town my mother lived in."

"Very well; Arryn, show Murtagh to the mirror. We'll give you the full tour of the town once you're finished with it."

Arryn and Murtagh shuffled out of the room, leaving behind Riley and the Earl. Roran studied the map intently, making minute changes to the pieces on the board as he consulted a list of movements from the night before. He muttered to himself under his breath. For the most part, Riley just let her eyes wander around the room, staying on no decoration in particular for too long. Three sets of Urgal horns were mounted on the one wall, a shield with swords crossed behind it on another.

It was minutes of awkward silence before one of them spoke, "How long has Murtagh been training you?" Roran didn't look up from his charts as he spoke.

"It's been a little over six months now since Thröviel hatched. We started training about a month after that," Riley continued to scan the room as she spoke, eyes darting to the Earl for only brief moments.

"Murtagh is a brilliant fighter, from what I remember. I can only assume he's taught you well."

"If by 'well' you mean he's beaten me to the other end of the Hadarac and back, then yes very well," Riley held something of a scowl on her face, though she did her best to hide it.

"Mmm. I didn't get the luxury of having a trainer. The best way to learn is from a real fight, where there are real stakes," Roran finally looked up from his map as he spoke, "And Murtagh has thirty or thirty five years of experience over you; I'd be amazed if you managed to defeat him."

Riley let out a small chuckle before the room fell back into silence. It remained that way until Murtagh returned to the room.

"Right then, I've consulted with Eragon and Nar Grahzvog. We'll be flying to Du Fells Flauga to retrieve two eggs as a gift for the Urgals. In the meantime, Grahzvog will attempt to convince the Herndall to call off the attacks while we get the eggs to them."

"I'll be going as well then?" Riley perked up at the mention of Eragon's mountain city.

"It's more than likely. For now though, you have the day. Thorn will call for you when it's time for tonight's sparring match," Murtagh waved Riley off, his attention drawn to the map in the center of the room; his face hard. Calculations were rushing through his brain, Roran was sure of it; he had often had that same look during many a battle.

"So what if we can't manage a diplomatic solution?" Roran asked hesitantly.

"How strong is your militia?" Murtagh said.

"Not strong enough. No more than a hundred men if we pull from every family. Less than half of them can fight another person, let alone an Urgal," Roran out both of his arms and all of his weight on the table, but it was too well made to break or sag in.

"Then we'll have to hope that we can scare off the whole lot of them with the dragons. Any proper army won't be able to reach us for at least three weeks, and that's without contending with the Urgals blocking the path from here to Therinsford."

"I have an uneasy feeling that we might need to settle in for a siege." Roran stared intensely at the largest Urgal camp placed on the map.

"You do what you believe needs to be done, Thorn and I need to rest after a two day flight," with that, Murtagh walked out of the room, leaving Roran alone with his map and his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

Riley awoke suddenly from a deep sleep, her eyes crusty and her heart racing. She could hear loud sounds coming from outside the room she slept in; people yelling and loud clanging sounded throughout Carvahall. Riley rushed into the hallway to find Roran standing at a window, looking out over Carvahall. A fire raged in the forest nearby the town, and figures streamed out of it. Some of the Urgals that came rushing from the blaze were on fire themselves, but most were not. They rushed to the wall as best they could while under fire from archers atop the small palisade.

"What's happened!?" Riley asked, but her question had been answered as soon as she looked out the window.

Roran replied anyway, "They attacked us in the night. The Herndall obviously couldn't be bothered to keep up their end of the bargain."

"I'll go and wake Murtagh, he'll -" Riley was cut off.

"Don't bother, he's already out there. He and Thorn were awake when the attack started. Who do you think set the forest on fire?"

Riley ran back into her room and equipped herself as quickly as she could, donning her armor and grabbing her sword's scabbard from where it had been resting against the wall. She had called Thröviel to meet her outside by the time she began making her way there herself. He was crouched and ready to ride when Riley tore out of the front of Roran's house. After Riley had scrambled up his leg and quickly strapped her legs in place, the dragon shoved off from the ground much harder than he ever had before. He flew low over the buildings of Carvahall, speeding towards the wall where Thorn was easily visible.

Murtagh touched Riley's mind, _Help the southern front, there is another group of Urgals about to breach that section! I'm holding my own here. _

_ Yes, Master. _Thröviel made a sharp turn after hearing the instructions, now racing towards the main gate to the town. They arrived in only a minute and crashed down just inside the gate, startling a number of foot soldiers around them. Riley slid down and ran up to a man with a horsehair plume extending from the crest of his helmet.

"Oh finally, a Rider; there has to be at least fifty Urgals at this gate, we need help!" the man was desperately ordering troops around between almost every word of the sentence. The gate to the town was hit with something quite heavy, and one of the doors began to dent and buckle. The giant gonging of the gate became rhythmic as the Urgals continued to mash their makeshift battering ram against the doors.

Thröviel, quick to act on the problem said only, _Follow my lead, _before jumping into the air and dropping down on the other side, causing the large tree the Urgals had uprooted to splinter to pieces like so many wooden beams. Riley relayed his words to the guard commander and ordered him to throw open the gates so she at least could follow. They did as were told, though they could not open the gates far, as the Urgals had done a good job of bashing them in. Riley was the first out of the gate, followed quickly by Carvahall's militia, most of whom carried long spears or pikes to keep the Urgals at bay.

Riley, on the other hand, was more interested in running into the fray alongside her dragon. She tore around Thröviel's left flank, slicing down an Urgal with a swift stroke that left a long gash across the beast's chest. She ducked down as Thröviel swiped over her with his claws, rending two more Urgals to pieces. More of Carvahall's soldiers were coming out of the gate, forming a spear wall with Riley and Thröviel at the crest.

The Urgals quickly learned their lesson and began using longer range tactics. Riley caught many arrows on her shield, and Thröviel's scale protected much of him. Many of the soldiers were not well enough equipped to be carrying shields, however, and at least a score of them fell before the formation was pushed back inside the gate by a pelting of arrows. Riley stayed out in front of the formation, trying to pull soldiers back into safety. Most of the arrows she managed to block with her shield or her armor caught.

Once the gates began closing, Riley hefted a final soldier onto her shoulder, the man no more than sixteen and dreadfully thin. She somewhat struggled under the weight of the man - as well as that of her armor and gear - and stumbled more than once on her way back to the gates. Just before the gates slammed shut, a burning pain sprouted in Riley's back. She tumbled to the ground just inside the wall, dropping the man to her side.

Though the pain clouded her mind, she managed to hear Thröviel telling her she had been shot. Two arrows had found their marks at the last possible moment. The soldiers crowded around her, pulling her further into the city as she had been doing to wounded soldiers only moments ago. She vaguely remembered one man picking her up, but she did not see who. Her consciousness drifted in and out from the pain, but the pain was there the whole time. She could feel blood sliding down her side and pooling on the plates of her armor. She was carried into a small hut, and just after, everything went black.

Háufnir let most of his weight fall on the only tree around for miles that could support it. This far north everything was a frozen wasteland, though for the past day he swore it had been getting warmer. He wished only that he had the strength to warm himself with magic; frostbite was beginning to take him. All of his fingers were blackened from it.

Whatever had been made aware of his presence from the castle was no longer pursuing him, but he had not been able to find his way back through the Spine. He had been wandering into colder and colder areas in hopes of finding a way south, though how far north he was now, he had no idea.

For a few days, something had been following him. Urgals, the same kind he had encountered in the cave and castle before, were the most likely candidate. But for the past few days Háufnir had been threatened by nothing save his own thoughts.

Draining the energy from the plants around him had given him plenty of energy to sustain himself, though he wished he had something proper to eat. He didn't recognize any of the plants or herbs from this part of the world, and he loathed to kill and eat any of the sparse game in the areas he had passed through.

Although he was certain the chase had been given up for the day, he had begun noticing small things. Footprints in the snow seemed too large to rabbits, squirrels or the occasional deer. Trees were scraped as he passed them, but no bears were nearby. It was almost as if he could hear clicking as he slept in the night. The chase had ended, but something was stalking him.

Háufnir opened his eyes to something he had never encountered before. Something stood at the edge of the camp. What he could not tell, he had never seen anything like it. The creature stood nearly as tall as he did, though its back was humped. It wore a stark white cloak that blended well with the area around them. Háufnir couldn't make out its face; it was obscured by both the wind and the white cowl that the thing covered itself with.

The creature began moving forward. The movement was slow, but its limping, awkward gait was not. In its hand was a sword, barely perceptible as a silver sheen over the air. Háufnir drew his own sword, one of the few things that he had managed to hold on to since his escape. Háufnir kept pace with the slow movement, and the creature was soon close enough to see a frosted over arm that looked more at home on an insect than a man. The blade that was held in the arm was shaped almost like a leaf, thin yet dense and strong at the base; the upper portion of the blade was more spread out, flatter and curved widely. The blade was one-sided, and resembled a scimitar or falchion.

It was only the blink of an eye that caused the apparition to disappear. Even though it was gone, Háufnir could still smell the muted stink that it had emitted. He resolved to inform his fellow riders and perhaps glean some knowledge once he could contact them.


	9. Chapter 9

Riley awoke from her dreamless sleep to a moonlit room and a thatched roof. The smell of a burnt out fire and the remains of a hot meal drifted through the air. Someone walked by outside humming a tune Riley was unfamiliar with, but it was comforting nonetheless. A thick blanket lay overtop of her, keeping her from freezing in the harsh winter that had come for the past years. The beams of moonlight passed directly over her from a window above her head, illuminating the wall and room past her bed.

Turning her head, Riley saw the room was full of shelves and had a large hearth in the center of the wall. A nightstand sat next to her bed with a small pitcher of water and a glass atop it, as well as a plate of food which by now was far too cold to eat. The shelves that lined the walls were all full of various glass bottles with similarly varied liquids. Across the room was another cot with blankets piled over the figure of a woman, likely Riley's caretaker. She vaguely remembered Roran mentioning that his daughter Ismira was the village healer.

Holding herself up weakly, Riley began eating. Each bite of food gave her the smallest amount of strength, but it was enough to let her stand after she had finished. She wrapped one of the thick blankets around herself, eager to keep warm.

Riley swung to sit on the side of her bed, her back still sore from where she was shot. She could hardly remember what had happened. She could feel her connection with Thröviel, but only as a string of thought that connected her to her slumbering partner. He sat in between two houses across the street, facing towards Riley's cottage. She looked out the window and saw that the ground was covered in a thick sheet of white.

She managed to stand and hold her balance, wrapping a blanket about herself to get what warmth she could out of it. Sleeping under Thröviel's wing would be better than in here, freezing half to death. Putting on her riding boots, which had been left in this room along with her armor, Riley opened the door and let in a cold breeze, causing the other woman to shift under her sheets. The snow fell lightly outside, drifting on the wind as if time had slowed down during a rainstorm. Shutting the door behind her, Riley began the distance between herself and the dragon.

She awoke Thröviel with her mind as she neared him, _"Thröviel. I need a place to sleep warmer than this cabin."_

_ "Of course, Little One,"_ Thröviel lifted a wing, motioning lightly with his head for Riley to lie against his flank.

Pressing her body against the spot where the white dragon's front leg met his torso, Riley reveled in the warmth that radiated from the dragon. His scales were damp from the melted snow. Pressed up against her partner was the most comfortable Riley had ever been. She slowly drifted back to sleep as the snow slowly fell around them.

* * *

The light from the sun was muted through Thröviel's wings. Riley awoke groggily to her stomach rumbling. Thröviel was fast asleep beside her, and was just as warm as he had been the night before, if not more. Riley shifted his wing, careful not to wake him, and exited into the new day.

The first thing that she noticed was how blinding the snow was in the full light of day. The sun reflected off of it brilliantly, brighter almost than Thröviel's scales. It was quite a jarring sight to wake up to, though she would likely soon become accustomed to it. The sound around her was muffled, except for the crunch of the snow under her boots. Only after she took a few moments to adjust to the new level of sound could she hear the yelling of children in the street adjacent to her, and the calling of their parents. In the distance she could hear the smith hammering away at his morning's work. The sun was not high yet in the air.

Riley opened the door to the cottage she had been in last night, only to find Ismira pulling herself out of bed. The older woman looked at her in disbelief, "Did you sleep outside? In the cold?"

Riley nodded, "I slept against Thröviel's flank. It was much warmer than your house. There's quite the draft in there."

Ismira held an awkward look on Riley for a few more moment before saying, "Well we should inform Roran that you've woken. I am Ismira, Roran's daughter. It is a pleasure to meet you properly, O Rider."

Riley stifled a small chuckle at the formality of the phrase, "You can call me Riley. This is Thröviel. It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Not to be intrusive, but is there any food you can provide? I'm famished."

Ismira led Riley through the winding streets and the veritable maze of buildings that made up Carvahall back to Roran's house. A page opened the door and motioned for them to step inside before leading the pair to the kitchen. Roran and a man in his late twenties were sitting at the table as Thröviel's head appeared in a nearby bay window, followed quickly by the women entering the room.

"Riley? I'm glad you're awake," Roran quickly swallowed a mouthful of bacon as he spoke, "When did you wake up?"

"Last night, when it had just started snowing," Riley sat down as she spoke, following Roran's motion to do so. A plate was slid in her direction, as well as Ismira's, by a flick of the second man's wrist and a few mumbled words.

After sending the plates to their owners, the man reached over to Riley with an outstretched hand, "I'm Calleach, Roran's son," Riley shook the man's hand, "It's a pleasure, my lady."

"Likewise," responded Riley before beginning to devour the food on her plate. Conversation between the others at the table was pleasant enough, but Riley went about filling the hole in her stomach. By following the conversation, she pieced together that Ismira had recently been in Surda, though she couldn't tell for how long.

After eating, Calleach provided a mirror similar to her own in Illirea. He said a few words and the mirror shimmered to reveal Eragon's meeting room that Riley had grown to know fairly well. The elf Yaëla was sat in the meeting room, as she often was, in case someone attempted to contact Eragon. The elf noted their presence by nodding her head and then her face went blank as she contacted Eragon with her mind. It was only a few moments before Murtagh and Eragon climbed the stairs into the room.

After a similar re-introduction to the one she had given Roran, Riley questioned after her training. "Murtagh will be returning to you shortly," came Eragon's reply, "And after you two have treated with the Herndall, you'll be escorted to me."

"And what will my education consist of then? It won't just be more of the same, will it?" Riley was eager to progress to more advanced training, and it showed on her face and in the tone of her voice.

"We'll decide that once you've arrived. Until then, focus on getting yourself better until Murtagh arrives."

"Yes, Master," Riley bowed slightly as Calleach waved his hand over the mirror and dissolved the spell.

The next three days passed in a blur. Riley resumed her normal training regimen, sparring against members of the Carvahall militia. Arryn was perhaps her most frequent opponent, and the two were well matched. During her time fighting, Riley began wielding a spear, finding it just as comfortable in her hands as her scimitar, if not more. She flew with Thröviel most of the time when she wasn't sparring or reading, and made a number of adjustments to her saddle to keep both her and her partner more comfortable. She slept outside under Thröviel's wing, even as snow continued to fall over the first two days.

On the third day since she had awoken, the snow fell harder than it had for the past nights. It was brutally cold, but Thröviel kept her warm enough to stay comfortable. Near the middle of the night, something jolted Riley awake. Her mind was alert, like something had tried to invade it. Reaching out, she quickly found the source. She felt like she was enveloped by a wholly different being. Her connection to Thröviel – who had also been awoken by the presence – was her only connection to anything outside her own mind.

The presence screamed out in a language that Riley couldn't understand, though she understood the meaning well enough. Whatever it was needed help. Thröviel got the same message from what sounded like gibberish, and said as much before telling Riley to strap on his saddle.

The pair lifted off the ground, heading to what they could detect as the source of the presence, the creature's mind. The mind was, in comparison with Riley's familiarity with Thröviel's and her contact with Thorn, obviously that of a dragon.

_"We can help you," _Thröviel tried to reach out to the dragon, a sentiment which was echoed by Riley only moments later, _"Slow down and speak to us."_

The presence slowed, eventually stopping where it hung in the air, quieting itself, "_Who are you?_" it spoke in common, yet still not revealing its identity.

Riley and Thröviel introduced themselves and the dragon said nothing for nearly two minutes, just circled high above them, "_I am coming. Meet me here," _the dragon sent with the words an image of the road to Carvahall, nearly two miles from the city.

Riley entered Roran's house, doors sliding silently on oiled hinges, and donned garb more fitting to the cold night. She stepped back outside, buckling her sword to her belt before climbing into Thröviel's saddle. When they arrived at the specified location, they noted that the dragon was directly above them, and was waiting for them to land. Thröviel touched down, and then the dragon above began to circle lower and lower. \

When the creature came into view, it was still difficult to see. The snow masked the dragon's approach, but once it could be seen clearly, it was obvious that the dragon was massive, certainly larger than Thröviel, yet still a good deal smaller than Thorn. The dragon's scales shone a bright orange, even in the dim light and falling snow. The dragon touched down and swept its tail around itself, clearing a patch of ground from the snow, though it quickly began to return.

The dragon reached once again into their minds, speaking a language that neither of them understood. When this fact was brought up by Riley, the dragon again began slowly speaking in common, almost as if she didn't have a proper grasp on the language, "_Thank you for coming to my aid. I am Jánia, partner to the Elven Rider Háufnir. He has been taken, and I do not know where or by what. I need help finding and returning him,_" her speech was riddled with long, awkward pauses that somewhat threw off the pair, but her meaning was well understood.

"_How was he captured?_" Riley was somewhat surprised that anyone would try and capture a Rider, especially an elf. It was a dangerous prospect.

"_I said, already, I do not know who captured him. Do you think I would know how it happened? He dealt his captors a wound however; I found blood spattered on the floor of our cave, only some of it was elvish."_

"_We will help you find him," _Thröviel spoke for the pair, _"But would it not have been wiser to seek out Arya, Eragon or Murtagh?"_

"_I was hoping to find Murtagh in Illirea. Du Fells Flauga is too far away, and Arya cannot abandon her duties as queen to traverse the Spine for days searching."_

"_Murtagh should be returning within the next two or three days. We should wait for his return before running off,"_ Murtagh would be more useful in searching for the lost Rider, not to mention Riley would be disobeying orders by leaving Carvahall.

"_I have wasted enough of my time returning here. If you will not accompany me, then I will fly north once more, to resume my search. I cannot afford to wait days more while my Rider may be dead."_

"_Do not go alone. It would be dangerous, even for you," _Thröviel's speech halted Jánia as she prepared to take off, "_Allow us to return to Carvahall and leave a message for Murtagh. We will return within the hour," _Privately, he told Riley to wake Roran upon returning to the village.

The return flight to Carvahall was quick, taking only a few moments as Thröviel sped across the treetops. Riley left a quickly scrawled note on the dining room table, where Roran would be sure to see it. She quickly roused Roran from his slumber, barely giving him time to sit up before explaining her actions and telling him of the note so he could go over everything when he was properly awake. Riley grabbed her spear and the rucksack that contained her armor before running back outside and scrambling up Thröviel's leg.

By the time the two returned to Jánia, she had again wiped clean her large circle of ground, though snow was again encroaching upon it. After a short retelling of Jánia's story, the two dragons lifted off once again and began rising higher and higher over the trees and mountains, speeding northwards.

**Hello again, everyone! **

**It's been quite a while since I've been able to put something new on this story, but I am actually super glad to be back in the game. Hopefully my case of writer's block is gone by now, and I can actually get to the parts of this story that I want to tell. **

**I would like to say a huge thanks to everyone that has been continuing to follow me here as I move forward and evolve this story, and I've had a really fun time doing it, and hopefully I won't have to stop anytime soon. And thanks for everyone that's gone and taken a look at the Inheritance: Anthology series that I'm putting up alongside this one, those have been really fun to write. **

**Not really too much to say here, I basically made this chapter a bit longer and flow better, because the one that I had up here was, IMO at least, pretty bad. I'm happy with this, and I can finally move on. I look forward to continuing to tell this story, and to see what ya'll think of it!**

**Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!**

5


	10. Chapter 10

_**In response to reviews: **_**Holy crap Anon, thanks! I'm glad that you think my writing has improved (though I'm always working on it so I suppose it'd be hard to not improve), and I'm super happy you're liking the story and where it's going. Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!**

Roran listened carefully as Calleach read the note left by Riley for the third time. The young Rider had woken him during the night, spouting some nonsense about a dragon and a lost Rider before running off and disappearing. Her letter addressed to Murtagh made about as much sense in the morning as the explanation had at night.

"We'll return as soon as Háufnir is safe," finished Calleach, "An apprentice running off without her master makes about as much sense as plowing a field in winter. The girl doesn't seem very bright."

"I'm sure she knows what she's doing. She was educated in Illirea, and Murtagh wouldn't have trained an imbecile. I just hope whoever kidnapped this Rider can't repeat the trick."

"I don't think we can really afford to worry about that right now. Our defenses are more important, and we still have a broken gate. And we have a wall broken in two more places."

"Aye, we do. What do our stores look like?"

"Most of our material was in sheds outside the wall. Most of our food and grain was safe in the town proper, but we're lacking in wood to rebuild the wall. More morbidly, we're lacking in manpower. Two more bodies brings the total count up to twenty-five."

"We're not going to be able to hold out like this. And with no Riders here, we're going to need to get word to Nasuada. We need soldiers here."

"I don't think we can get word out. Ever since Riley spoke to Eragon and Murtagh, I haven't been able to contact anyone. I'm afraid the Urgals may have a spellcaster with them. If that's the case we'll need to wait until Murtagh returns and he can speak to the Queen."

"I certainly hope he's fast. We don't have much more in us. And we still don't know the size of this force. Our scouts put the size somewhere between 700 and 1300. Even on the lower end, that's still more than twice as many than joined the Varden during the Rider War. It's an army."

Roran's face paled at the numbers. The last reports were certain there could only be about three hundred Urgals; a good sized force to be sure, but one that the militia could handle with careful planning. 1300 was far more than Carvahall could handle without help.

"Dispatch a runner to Therinsford. Send whoever you need to, we need more people, more material, anything they can spare. We need as much as we can get before this turns into a siege."

* * *

The air so far north and so high up was colder than anything Riley had experienced. Remaining so close to Thröviel had helped immensely, but it could only do so much. The trio had only just landed on the side of a mountain next to the mouth of a large cave. Jánia had said she and Háufnir had rested here once before, and it was safe. The dragon had also said that the two full day's flight had covered nearly the whole of the way to where Háufnir had been lost.

The mountains were beautiful, certainly more than Helgrind, the only mountain anywhere near Dras-Leona. The Spine had a wild beauty to it; Dras-Leona's resident granite monolith looked more ominous than anything else. It probably helped that the Spine was interspersed with valleys and forests, unlike the flat plains that surrounded Riley's home city.

Thröviel, however, was not nearly as impressed by the mountain range, "_There is a sense of worry that I cannot shake. Like a dread that runs through these mountains. The deer are still and quiet during the day, and they move during the night. The birds do not sing in the morning as they wake nor at night as they sleep. The land is unmoving and quiet; it is wrong," _Jánia seemed to agree.

Hours ago, Jánia had lit a small fire for Riley to see by and to keep her warm before she retired under her dragon's wing. Both dragons themselves now rested, laying further back in the cave to escape from the cold, which they insisted they still suffered under. Riley looked into the crackling flame, watching it wave to and fro, and finally stood to retire under Thröviel.

As Riley stood, she turned to the mouth of the cave, and heard a loud snapping, like a branch had been broken in two. Another pair of the sounds came just a second later. Fearing something was approaching the cave, she quickly shoveled the small pile of dirt nearby onto the fire. It was nearly half a minute before she heard something at the mouth of the cave, walking with heavy, padding feet. Riley couldn't see anything, but the creature breathed heavily, and smelled like a slab of raw pork left in the sun too long. Whatever the creature was, it was interested in the cave. Riley backed herself up into a small alcove, grabbing her spear from where it lay as she moved; fighting anything in the dark would be the death of her.

The creature moved inside the cave, walking so slowly that it hardly made noise at all. When the creature had made it a ways into the cave, it stopped; Riley assumed by the covered fire pit. It moved on after only a few seconds, the sound of its feet receding towards the draconic breathing deeper in the cave. Riley decided to stand now that the creature was between her and the dragons, and fumbled for her pack, finding it rather quickly. She pulled a torch from it, already wrapped and ready to light. She struck a flint with her knife, lighting the wad of rag ablaze. She held the torch in her left hand, her spear pointed forward in her right.

The creature turned as the flame broke out, staring at it as if mesmerized. The creature was roughly the shape of a human, but a good deal larger. He was nearly eight feet tall, his head almost scraping the top of the cave. He wore no clothes, baring his frost-blue skin to the world, and he had a long beard dropping down from his face. The man's eyes were hollow and sunk-in and his mouth was missing teeth and rotted. On his stomach was a large patch of skin that looked almost burnt black, mottled skin flaking off.

The man rushed towards Riley as she held the torch up, swiping at her as she dodged out of the way. She called out to Thröviel through their connection, not wanting to alert any other creatures to her presence by yelling aloud. As the man slid past her, Riley placed the tip of her spear firmly into the man's leg. When she pulled it out, the man whirled around, his arm slamming into her left side.

Riley was flung across the room, dropping her torch on the ground as she rolled away. Thröviel was awake by now, and fully aware of the threat. He began pulling himself off the ground as the giant dove towards Riley.

Though, curiously, it did not reach for her as it landed; but rather the torch. It cradled the light source, staring into the flame, seemingly oblivious to everything except the fire. Thröviel stood behind the man, ready to attack, while Riley stood up and readied her spear in both hands.

But the giant did not do anything for a long while. Every so often it passed its hand through the fire; when he did the light dimmed and the warmth faded. The pallor of his skin faded away as his hand neared the fire, and returned when he removed his appendage. Riley eventually called out to the creature, barely above a whisper, "Hello?"

He gave no response except to press the torch against the black spot on his chest. The fire died out, and the cave dropped into darkness. As soon as the light was snuffed out, Thröviel moved, grabbing the giant in his jaws and crushing the creature. There was a crunching sound as the giant's bones were snapped, and a tumbling as Thröviel dropped him back to the ground. Riley felt her way back to the fire and lit another torch, now reaching for Jánia's mind to wake her.

The giant looked different now that it had passed. The skin had lost its frosted look, returning the man to his normal appearance. The stab wound on his leg was missing, as if it had been healed. The torch that he had held was cold to the touch, and Riley's arm was chilled too, now that she had calmed herself. Blood pooled around the man, but it was slow and cold, almost coming out in clumps. The black spot on his stomach was still there, but it was smaller, and continued to grow smaller as they watched.

"_Has the enemy been killed yet?"_ asked Jánia, as she slid her head around a corner in the cave.

"_Yes, he's dead. It seemed to be some kind of man, but covered in frost, and attracted to fire. Do you know anything of it?" _asked Riley.

"_No, I have not heard of such a thing. Perhaps Eragon would know. Háufnir's hand mirror is still in my bag, perhaps we could contact him?"_

"_He probably wouldn't appreciate our disobeying Murtagh and running off to the North. Besides, I don't know how to use magic, I can't contact him."_

"_You cannot use magic?"_ Jánia seemed almost taken aback at the information.

"_No I haven't been instructed. Murtagh said that would be Eragon's lesson to teach."_

"_I may have something to speak to you about in the morning. For now, roll the man outside and get some sleep. We need our rest."_

* * *

The next morning, after eating a small breakfast, the trio took off once more, heading farther north. Jánia suggested that she attempt to tutor Riley in the ancient language, the language of the elves and the language that is spoken to perform magic. Most of the day, when not being spent shouting and looking for Háufnir, was spent drilling words into Riley's head.

It was a long day before the group settled down once more, but Riley had begun to learn some of the words in the ancient language. Most of what she knew was simple words for elements or creatures; _adurna_ meant water, _brisingr _was fire, _skulblaka_ was dragon.

It was not until the end of the next day that the group saw anything of interest. After flying almost straight north for five full days from Carvahall, Thröviel spotted a structure in the distance. The architecture sat halfway up a large mountain, and snow poured on top of it. A series of archways led to a large stone door inset into the granite. A number of figures moved down below, the size of ants from so high. The dragons descended down to the ground quite a ways away as to not startle those on the ground, and approached.

"_Do you think Háufnir is here?"_ asked Riley.

"_I don't believe so. I can't feel him, but this is the best lead that I have found so far."_

Riley was the first to approach, the dragons staying behind. "Hello!" she called out over the wind that shipped past her on the mountaintop. No response came.

She climbed up a steep set of stairs that led under the first archway and repeated her call. The wind died down and she yelled again. Still no response. The only things that looked vaguely alive were the statues of Kull that lined the sides of the path, which narrowed as it approached the end. Riley made it to the door, yet still no one was visible, like they had all disappeared. Above the door were etched a series of runes that Riley recognized as Urgal; though she didn't understand their meaning. She called for Thröviel and Jánia to join her.

Riley pressed the door open as the dragons reached her, and immediately gagged at the smell. The air inside the building was stale and far too hot to be comfortable even in this cold; it was humid and smelled of meat gone long rotten. Riley stepped inside, dropping the furred jacket that she had been wearing as overtop her clothes and slinging it over Thröviel's saddle. Riley took a torch from a sconce on the wall and let Jánia relight it. The old wood burned better than it should have, but Riley paid that no mind.

The corridor was old and broken down. It was nearly fifty feet across, easy for even Jánia to fit inside, and about just as high. Stones in the floor were out of place, cobwebs and dust covered every surface. Crumbled blocks from the ceiling sat on the ground. Insects of all kinds scurried across the floors. Inset into the walls every thirty feet were small alcoves with long horizontal spaces. A preserved skeleton and a weapon befitting a Kull sat in each space. Some of the bodies were better preserved, and it was obvious that those were indeed Kull.

"_I have a bad feeling about this place. It is rarely safe to walk within an Urgal Tomb," _said Jánia, snaking her head in between the large doors, _"There is all too often dark magics at work within these places."_

"_I'm sorry Jánia, but this is something too interesting to pass up,"_ Riley began to make her way further into the tomb, passing by the first three alcoves and coming to an intersection.

"_I will remember where this is and we can explore it later; when we have found my Rider. I did not bring you here to be a tourist."_

Riley moved straight past the intersection as Thröviel joined Jánia in warning the girl. Riley came to a large door, one even larger than the entrance. These two massive slabs of granite were intricately carved depicting scenes of fighting and war. Massive armies of Urgals clashing with what appeared to be men, elves, dwarves; almost any race that was not the Urgals. Written along the bottom of the door in Urgal runes was a single word, 'Kulkarvek.'

"_Kulkarvek," _Riley read back the word to Jánia and Thröviel even as she pushed open the door.

The room inside was lit as if by a moon. Dust was suspended in the still air, and no wind entered or left the chamber. The ceiling above was painted to resemble a night's sky. The room was immaculate, as the rest of the tomb likely was when it was first built. A number of Urgals lay prostrated on the floor, facing towards a large throne adorned with skulls. None of the Urgals moved, not even to breathe, but they all looked as if they were alive. No one sat on the throne, but the cushion thereon was depressed as if some weight was still on it. The whole room looked like it had been simply frozen in time.

Riley stepped into the room, and could no longer feel her connection to Thröviel. Her mind could not expand past the entryway to this room. Panicking, she backed out into the hallway to find Thröviel loping down the corridor.

"_Where were you? It was as if you dropped off the world," _Thröviel nuzzled Riley with his snout as he caught her.

"_We were worried as soon as you read that name. Kulkarvek was once the one and only King of the Urgals, uniting them under one banner to fight against the worlds of men, elves, dwarves, anything they could battle against. He is entombed here, in that room,"_ Jánia's voice had a tremor of worry in it, and Riley acquiesced her request to leave.

"_Before we go, there is something that may be important…Kulkarvek was not on his throne in the room. The other Urgals were staring at him, but the throne was empty."_

Jánia took a moment to digest the information before working her way into the hall and towards the room. She stuck her head inside, her mind disappearing, and pulled it out nearly two minutes later, _"We should never have come here."_

The dragon turned and began for the exit door, Thröviel and Riley close behind.

"_What was wrong? Did I disturb something?"_ Riley asked once Thröviel and Jánia had taken off again.

"_No. There was nothing left to disturb. Kulkarvek has been missing from his tomb for a very long time. We need to find Háufnir and get to Eragon immediately."_

_**Author's Note:**_

**Well this chapter flew out of me a lot faster than I thought it was. I suppose that once that writer's block got knocked out of the way I just became a writing machine! This chapter is a little rough, but I think I'm gonna wait a little while before I start smoothing out the edges, I want to get further along in the story before I stall out again doing rewrites. Also if I'm not mistaken this is easily the longest chapter that we've gotten up so far so yay!**

**So here we get to see Riley and the Gang run into something similar to the frostbitten Urgals that kidnapped Háufnir. I'm actually really happy with how these guys have been portrayed so far in both of the chapters they're in. I don't remember when I came up with the ideas for these guys as villains, but I'm glad that I did because recently I did a bit of work on the main villain and I'm pretty happy with the something of a revamp that I've done to them. **

**Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!**


	11. Chapter 11

_**In Response to reviews:**_ **Wow, Anon, I'm super happy that you're enjoying the story enough to call me a genius! I don't think so personally, but I'm glad ya'll like it. The 'Froze People' have a proper name; though I don't think I'm gonna throw it out there yet. You do get to see some more of them here though!**

Roran looked up into the sky, eyes focused on the small dot that descended towards Carvahall. Murtagh was going to be furious with him for just allowing Riley to fly off in the middle of the night. He hadn't been awake enough to stop her, and had even thought himself to be dreaming.

Thorn touched down not twenty feet from where Roran stood, eliciting an involuntary flinch from most of his guards. Roran did not react similarly.

"I've already taken notice that Riley isn't here, no need to deliver that news to me," Murtagh slid off Thorn, carefully cradling a large rucksack in his arms.

"She left behind a note three days ago, before flying off to the north. She mentioned another dragon, Jánia, and her Rider, Háufnir."

"Aye, Háufnir was an elf trained seventeen years ago. I had heard he was mapping the northern Spine as something of a pet project. I doubt Riley would have enough knowledge to know that; there is a good chance she did meet Jánia."

"_From what I have heard, the elf was something of an eccentric. I can certainly imagine him getting into trouble that he cannot escape from,"_ added Thorn.

"Yes, but what trouble could he be in that his dragon could not help him escape from?" asked Roran.

"Something very bad. We'll deliver these eggs to the Herndall tonight instead of waiting; I'll set off to the north first thing in the morning."

* * *

Háufnir was positive that he was heading south now. He had been travelling for nearly two weeks now, and it was finally getting warmer. The mountains had begun growing trees once again, and animals stalked through the forests. It was nearly night now, and Háufnir would need to find a spot to rest soon.

It was easy enough to find the wood and tinder for a small fire, and the elf even managed to find two rabbits nearby that he killed with magic. It had been nearly a week now since Háufnir had begun eating meat, and he thought often how much pleasure Jánia would take in his performing the act; she so often teased him about it. He skinned and removed the innards of the animals with magic as he was not familiar with the manual process, and tossed the organs and pelts aside, to be eaten by the wildlife.

A number of hours later, Háufnir's back was against a nearby tree, wards cast to deter wildlife from approaching, and beginning to slip into his sleep-like trance. The footsteps of the approaching creature were too quiet for even him to hear. He did not react until the cloaked being raised a club into the air and let out its breath too hard.

The elf rolled forward, torn from his rest as the metal club dented the trunk of the tree. Grasping his sword, he pulled it from the loop on his belt and faced towards the creature. Háufnir inhaled sharply as he recognized the creature as the same one he had envisioned rushing towards him four days ago. The only difference was the weapon; a large mace as opposed to the leaf-bladed sword. The creature's hood covered its face, but Háufnir recognized its gait and the black eyes that seemed to shine from underneath the cloth. This was a Ra'zac, branded in the same way as the Urgals that had captured him. Háufnir quickly composed a spell to prevent the creature's breath from incapacitating him.

The Ra'zac stepped forward, and the pair circled the fire pit for nearly a minute. Háufnir was opposite where he had begun when he heard rustling in the bushes behind him. He rushed forwards, both to make the first move on his opponent, and to avoid the strike that had been aimed at his back. Haufnir's sword was caught on the flanges of the Ra'zac's mace, and with a twist of the creature's wrist, it was torn from his hands.

Háufnir faced his palm behind him, shouting "Skölir!" at the opponent behind him. He felt the drain in energy as another weapon collided with his spell. With his other hand, the elf grabbed at the first Ra'zac's mace, gripping it by the flanges. He pulled on the mace, and it slipped from the Ra'zac's hands. Háufnir righted the mace in his hands and twirled around, slamming the weapon into the ribs of the creature behind him; a second Ra'zac.

The Ra'zac, instead of flinching in pain or reeling back, simply took the blow standing, and retaliated with a swipe with its own mace to Háufnir's torso. A heavy dent in Háufnir's breastplate was the end result, and the elf had the wind knocked out from his lungs. The first Ra'zac, now behind Háufnir, took the opportunity to jump on top of the elf, straddling his back and pulling its arms around his throat in an attempt to choke him. Háufnir tried to cough out one of the words of death, but couldn't get more than "Dey-"

The second Ra'zac delivered a blow to Háufnir's stomach that dropped him to his knees. His vision began to go black. The pressure around his neck tightened. He imagined that he could feel Jánia, somewhere in the distance, but it must have been a hallucination. Darkness consumed him.

* * *

This time when Háufnir opened his eyes, he was not greeted by darkness, but by blinding light. He was crammed into the corner of a large room. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw dozens of Urgals standing in formation, lined up with a long, violet carpet in between the two lines. The floor was frosted over, but the Urgals in the room looked like normal creatures, and lacked any sign of frostbite that the marked ones had. One Urgal lay prostrated on the carpet and faced a large throne, though whoever sat upon it was obscured by bodies. Another spoke down to him, assumedly the Urgal on the throne, but the dialect was so old that Háufnir hardly recognized what he said.

The Urgal on the ground replied in a dialect Háufnir understood, "I will not fail you again, my Lord. The assault went poorly, but only because of the intervention of two Riders. They have since left the town. Only give me another chance."

There was silence for a moment, and the Urgal on the throne laughed. He spoke again and two guards moved forward to pick up the Urgal on the ground. They pulled him back and broke his knees, kicking the legs inward before dragging him from the room. The Urgal on the throne spoke once more, and two guards roughly grabbed Háufnir by his arms, dragging him in front of the throne.

Before Háufnir was a true monster of an Urgal. The creature sat high, standing he must have been no less than ten feet. His horns curled around themselves too many times to count, Háufnir could have lost himself searching through the endless loops. The Urgal was a perfect specimen of a body built for fighting. His arms were nearly as thick around as Háufnir's put together. The Urgal wore more clothing than most did, going so far as to have a long, flowing cloth dropping from a pauldron on his left shoulder, proudly displaying a piece of heraldry. A circlet that looked to be made of volcanic glass crowned the Urgal's head, somehow placed below his horns. The Urgal had no hair.

The voice that came from the Urgals mouth was not the same as it had been before. His tongue was smooth, his voice sounded as if he were a human or an elf; far removed from the guttural accent he had spoken with before. In addition, the Urgal spoke fluently in the Ancient Language, "Welcome to my court, Háufnir, Rider of Jánia. I have been waiting for you for weeks now," suddenly the Urgal assaulted his mind, breaking down his barriers in mere seconds, _"And I am so glad you have finally arrived."_

Háufnir could hardly speak as the Urgal drove a spike into his mind, causing him to cry out in agony, "I can see my presence leaves you speechless, young Rider."

Háufnir felt the presence retreat from his mind, and took a moment to compose himself, "How do you know who I am?"

"I have been watching you from afar for so very long. Almost ten years now, I have been focused on finding these new Riders. And now I have you. Your dragon recently entered the Barrows of Anghelm alongside your newest recruit. A dangerous place to be exploring."

The image of Jánia, alongside a young girl and a smaller, white dragon, appeared in front of Háufnir. They traveled down a long, broken corridor with a door opened far behind them. It looked as if moonlight poured from the room. The image disappeared and was replaced by a small town, where Murtagh met with a bearded man nearing old age. Murtagh held two dragon eggs in his hands, and was turning away to climb back onto Thorn.

"Murtagh flies to the Herndall, thinking that exchanging the eggs of dragons will stop my soldiers from attacking Carvahall. He only leaves them open to attack."

"You lie. These are nothing but fabrication," Háufnir wanted to spit at the Urgal, but his mouth was too dry.

"Oh I assure you, young one. I do not lie. I may be a despicable creature, and I may have done many, many things, but lying has never been one of them."

"Then why show them to me?"

"Because there is one more man that I need to find," the Urgal stood and stepped in front of Háufnir, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him up to stand, "I will find Eragon eventually. You can save your life by making it faster."

Háufnir moved his jaw, gathering as much saliva as he could manage with so little liquid in his body, and spat in the Urgal's face as he leaned down to emphasize his words, "I will not betray my master, nor my order."

"Very well. But what about your dear dragon?"

Another image appeared as the Urgal backed away, of Jánia and the other Rider pair walking out onto a snow-covered mountainside, the outlines of Urgals and Ra'zac highlighted in black on the snow.

"Who are you?"

"I have gone by many names, as has the Urgal whose body I share. You shall have the pleasure of calling me Vandiere, the Despoiler. I rather like that title, don't you?"

"A Shade. You're a Shade," Háufnir backed away from Vandiere slowly now that his hand had been moved.

Vandiere quickly caught Háufnir again, however, "Oh young one, I am so much more…than just a Shade."

"No I'll not tell you where Eragon is," Háufnir was quick, speaking as fast as he could to word a spell that would erase any memory of Du Fells Flauga from his mind.

But Vandiere was faster; reaching into Háufnir's mouth as it opened and grasping the elf's tongue between his fingers, "Now we can't have you spoiling all the fun, now can we?"

The elf began reciting once again the spell, this time using the magic non-verbally. It was dangerous, but he could not risk Vandiere finding the only remaining dragon eggs, even if they were guarded by Eragon. The spell was completed before the Shade's mental probe crashed through Háufnir's defenses once more.

After searching for a long time, perhaps nearly an hour, the Shade sighed, "I'm very disappointed in you, Háufnir. I had such high hopes. Oh well; you'll still make a fine addition around here. I've not yet found an elf, your kind are so recluse."

The Shade's face went blank for a moment, quickly replaced by a snarl. His voice now was guttural and full of phlegm, like a normal Urgal's. He spoke in common, "You _will_ make a fine addition to Vandiere' s collection."

The Urgal grasped Háufnir about the throat, picking the elf off the ground with only one arm. Háufnir could feel the magic coming out of the Urgal, freezing his neck so much so that it began to burn. He grasped at the Urgal's wrist and saw his skin paling. He was certain that Jánia's presence was imagined, but it was comforting nonetheless.

* * *

**Hello again everyone! Wow, I've really been just popping off with these chapters lately huh? Writer's Block breaks away and suddenly I get like 6,000 words just out and done. **

** So here we get a bit more information about Roran and Murtagh's situation, and just general progression outside of Riley and Thröviel. We also get something that I've been starting to build up over the past while. We get our big bad. I like Vandiere, and I think the name definitely sounds evil enough to be a Shade, though I can't help but feel like I stole it from something, though I don't know what. He might be a bit confusing, but it'll be explained later at least somewhat satisfactorily. **

** I feel like this chapter might be the one that I like the most and the least. It will 100% be rewritten a thousand times and I still won't know how to feel about it. I also feel like this is going to be the Chapter that ends up with half the people hating it and half loving it. **

** Either way; Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!**


	12. Chapter 12

Jánia was flying ahead of Riley and Thröviel when she faltered. The dragon swayed side to side, unable to keep herself up in the air. She dropped down into the forest, tucking her wings in and crashing through a number of trees as she skidded to a stop. A loud roar escaped her, louder than Riley had ever heard even Thorn produce. The sound echoed all around the mountain range; creatures for leagues around heard the bellow.

Thröviel landed next to her. He knew what had happened, _"It would be best not to disturb her now, Little One. Stay by her side; I will hunt for all of us."_

Riley sat with her back against the glittering orange scales of Jánia's flank, running her hand down the small portion of the dragon's leg that she had within reach. She touched the dragon's mind, and tried her best to assuage the grieving, but she could make no dent.

It was many, many hours until Jánia's cries ceased echoing off of the mountains. Thröviel returned, and he and Riley ate, but Jánia did not partake until they had both fallen asleep.

Late that night, Jánia lifted off from the makeshift clearing her landing had made, and began flying west. She could feel where her partner had died. There was revenge to be had there.

Riley awoke not to Jánia sitting across from her in the clearing, but Thorn. Murtagh stoked a small fire with two rabbits speared overtop of it.

"Good morning." Murtagh seemed less angry than Riley had thought he would be, almost serene in his disposition.

"How did you find us so quickly?"

_"A dragon's cries carry far across the land, Riley,"_ said Thorn, _"We simply followed them to the source."_

"Where is Jánia? She was here only last night."

"We've been unable to find her. I don't have a hand mirror like Háufnir did, so I cannot contact Eragon."

"Jánia said something about Eragon when we were returning from a tomb had explored. That we needed to warn Eragon that Kulkarvek was not in his tomb."

Murtagh stopped his constant motion within the fire, "Kulkarvek? Are you sure that she said Kulkarvek?"

"Positive."

_ "You should have told us as soon as you awoke. We will be flying back to Du Fells Flauga immediately."_

Murtagh quickly cast a spell that browned the meat he had been cooking and tossed one of the staked rabbits to Riley, "Eat quickly; we have no time to waste sitting here."

Riley spoke quickly in between bites, "I don't understand; who is Kulkarvek?"

Murtagh wolfed down his rabbit faster than Riley thought possible. He spoke as he began to climb up Thorn's leg, "He was an Urgal who, many, many years ago, managed to unite all of the warring Urgal tribes under his own banner. Most records from the time have been lost – I'm sad to say I burned some of them myself. Supposedly he was the largest Kull that ever lived, almost eleven feet tall. If that weren't enough, he was an accomplished spellcaster, perhaps the best one the Urgals have ever produced as a race."

"If he was born so long ago, how is he still alive?" Riley finished her rabbit and was on Thröviel's back just as Thorn lifted from the ground.

Murtagh touched her mind, the easier method of speaking while flying, _"His final conquest was meant to be over death itself. He hated the idea that his empire would crumble after his dead – which of course it did. So instead of dying, he collected every Urgal spellcaster that he could find and crammed them all into one room. He poured the energy of every single creature he killed, every enemy he defeated, every animal he slaughtered for food, and he put them inside gems that he used to decorate his throne room. The Urgals then performed one of the greatest feats of magic that Alagaësia has ever seen."_

_ "They froze time." _

_ "Aye. They gave themselves to their lord and the gems fueled the spell for far longer after that, for thousands of years. And so Kulkarvek sat for millennia, undisturbed by time. I don't know when the spell wore off, when the gems ran out of energy, but if he is gone from his tomb it at least has to be a recent happening."_

_ "When we were in the tomb," _said Thröviel, _"it still seemed as if time remained frozen. The Urgal spellcasters had not decayed, and the seat of his throne was still depressed as though he were still there. Is it possible something removed him?"_

_ "It is certainly a possibility. Only the contents of the room when the spell was cast would be bound by it. If someone were to remove an item, or indeed a body, whatever was removed would likely be freed of the spell's effects."_

_ "Then someone removed Kulkarvek from the room? Why would they do that if he's so dangerous?"_

_ "Because someone wishes to use him; though they may find him harder to control than they had imagined."_

Much of the rest of the trip was spent in silence. Riley did not mention the words of the Ancient Language that Jánia had told her. When she voiced her concerns about leaving the dragon behind, she was told that Jánia could fend for herself and getting to Eragon was more important. They detoured north around Du Weldenvarden, stopping once to camp along the forests edge. Thorn flew faster than Riley had thought possible for a creature so large, and she suspected Murtagh and Thorn were pulling Thröviel along with magic so they could keep apace. Even moving so fast, it would still be at least three days before they would reach _Du Fells Flauga_.

Roran looked out over the newly repaired wall of Carvahall. The whole perimeter of the town was now encased within it, and it had been reinforced with stone and metal. He wondered if it would be enough.

Calleach had done all he could to try and reinforce the wall using magic. The few gemstones that Roran kept in his treasury had been placed along the walls as best they could be, stored with energy and magicked to block anything trying to destroy the wall.

Arryn was drilling a number of newly recruited militiamen, instilling in them the discipline needed to face such large opponents. Calleach was helping haul loads of weapons from Albrecht's house, mainly extra-long spears and crossbows. He couldn't see her, but he knew Ismira was tending to the wounded from the raid they had performed last night. Murtagh had brought with him as many supplies as he could carry, but the town was large, and everyone in it was hungry.

Roran brought his gaze up to meet the forest that surrounded the small town. A few figures flitted just out of sight. The clouds were gathering overhead; it would be snowing soon. There would be battle tonight, Roran had no doubt.

Palancar Valley was smothered in the tension that came before a fight. Even without the ability to enter another's mind, Roran could feel the anxiety that every person exuded. While some of the militia hid it from the general population, the citizens were drenched in it. Roran himself was nearly in a cold sweat.

It was a long time before two men ran from the forests edge, desperate to get within reach of the walls before any Urgals saw and fired on them. Roran dismounted the wall and greeted them at the Northern Gate. Both of them were pale, and panting like dogs. He would have asked why they had run so quickly, but his ears answered the question before his mouth could ask it. The distant pounding of a war drum and the marching of soldiers became clearer as the town fell silent one person at a time. Roran and Arryn began to shout their orders as the snow began to fall around them.

_**In Response to Reviews: Wow thanks! I'm glad that you think my story is so much better than many others, but that might be discounting some of the better writers on this site! Anyway, I'm super happy you're enjoying where I'm going with the story. **_

**Author's Note: Well this is a rather short chapter, only maybe 1,300 words or so. But Its really more of a setup for bigger and better things anyway. We have Riley approaching Eragon and Saphira, which means I have to give them more time on page, which I'm rather nervous to do. We also have some big events approaching on Roran's front, a big battle that will be pretty fun to write, I think. **

**Not too much else to say here, so Se Onr Sverdar Sitja Hvass!**


	13. DisclaimerChapter 13 Placeholder

So it has only now come to my attention that Chapter 9 had never been changed over to what it was meant to be. It was still an update from a long time ago. It has been changed so the story is no longer interrupted by my incompetence in not deleting and replacing that chapter with the proper document.

I would also like to say that due to some personal issues, I'm not going to be posting anything for a few weeks, maybe until about a month out. I'll still be working on the story, just much more slowly as I deal with something rather serious that's come up in my life. Once this document is replaced with a proper Chapter 13, it will be quite some time before you see anything else from me, so have my apologies in advance, for what they're worth. (not that people reading this aren't used to me taking a long time before I post anything, See the two year gap before I posted I think Chapter 8?)


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